


rooftops, no invitations

by andeemae



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Stone wrecks a business, and makes a friend, meet not so cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:41:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 31,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27252844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andeemae/pseuds/andeemae
Summary: Stone gets assigned to help Coruscant Security, accidentally destroys a roof, and meets a girl.
Relationships: CC-5869 | Stone/OC Female Mirialan Character
Comments: 41
Kudos: 47





	1. Of all the bakeries in all of Coruscant in all the galaxy...

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Star Wars, I only play with the characters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: This is a little side story I created as part of the Riyo/Fox universe and it got a bit much. Hopefully it’ll at least be entertaining.

Stone bounds over the gap between the pair of ramshackle buildings, lands with a thud and a grunt just a meter from the suspect. His HUD alerts something about the roof and he blinks it away. He’s too close to finishing this pursuit to bother with it for the moment. 

The Balosar, a skinny male with a missing left antennapalp, is wheezing, running out of energy to continue the chase, but gets up nonetheless and limps along. Stone just sighs. Of course he couldn’t just give up already. 

He’s not a prime suspect, but he’s the only lead the Hutt tits at Coruscant Security have come up with for their contaminated spice problem. If they’d given the issue more attention, nearly a month prior when it hit the lower levels, they wouldn’t be grasping at straws now, panicked that someone of consequence was affected. 

A senator’s daughter, a known spicer with a mysteriously purging police file, had ended up at the Grand Republic Medical Center, though, and now the problems of the lower levels must be attended to. Of course, as a Senator was involved, the Coruscant Guard had been dragged in.

“It’s your turn,” Thorn grumbled, when the so-called ‘request’ came through. “I helped with the mystery of the vanishing Corellian Whiskey.”

Which had been less of a mystery and more a cover for the racket selling Orn Free Taa’s supposedly stolen liquor. The fat Twi’lek had wanted to make it at least appear he was looking for the excessive amounts of fine liquor he was importing and selling for a profit, without claiming it on his taxes. 

Politicians really are the worst. 

Rolling his eyes as the Balosar scrambles, trips over his own busted ankle, Stone takes the binders from his belt and marches to him.

“Stop moving and put your hands behind your back or I’ll zap you again,” Stone warns him, one hand going to his blaster, set to stun. 

They need him alive to interrogate, otherwise Stone wouldn’t bother. He’s not worth the trouble of transporting and processing.

Whimpering, the Balosar doesn’t stop, one hand wrapped around his ankle as he crawls a bit further. Stone shakes his head. This is the best the Coruscant Police could come up with? He’s too stupid to know anything. 

Finally, he rolls on his back, puts his hands up.

“Look, I can-I can get you things-anything you want!” His sickly pale eyes twitch around as he smiles, panicked and wild. “You let me go and I’ll make sure you get-you’re one of them clones, right?-I’ll get you liquor, best liquor you’ll ever taste!” 

Stone glares. 

“No-no, naw, you can get that-what about a girl, huh? What’d’ya like? Human? Twi’lek? Zeltron?” He nods to himself, the wild look still in his eyes. “Maybe a red, huh? Like the armor? Red hair or red ski-”

Stone reaches down and hoists him up by his collar, holds him dangling up as he struggles, sputtering and eyes bulging.

“Looks like we’ll be processing you for prostitution as well as attempted murder.”

The Balosar shakes his head, still clawing at Stone’s hand. Probably denying the accusation.

“Murder?” He finally manages to gasp out.

Stone nods. “Attempted murder by tainted spi-”

Something cracks underfoot, distracting Stone long enough for the Balosar to kick his foot up, slam the heel of his bad foot into the plastoid armor over Stone’s middle. Little good it does him. It’s not enough force to even put Stone off balance.

“Aahhh!”

His ankle folds, foot turned at an awkward angle and tears begin pouring down his cheeks. 

Criminal mastermind, this one, Stone thinks, shaking his head. 

The roof creaks again. 

Frowning, Stone looks down.

It’s an old construction, boggy where they stand, missing the water and pollutant guard required on newer buildings in the upper levels. Stone can even see light seeping through a crack-

Before Stone can even register what’s happening, his HUD flashes another warning and the roof gives way.

They crash through the thin roof, into a narrow crawl space of an attic, their momentum enough that they break the floor there, into a closet, then plummet into the room below. 

Stone’s HUD warns, unnecessarily, of an impending impact as he hits the edge of a table, sends it flying, scattering plates and cups as it overturns and breaks. 

Belly down, he stays still for a moment, regaining his bearings before pushing himself up and looking around. 

The Balosar is down, unconscious in the debris, damp insulation, crumbling duracrete, and wrecked cafe table, but the HUD scans him and detects he’s both alive and has no fatal njuries. Lucky bastard doesn’t even have spinal damage. 

Groaning, Stone gets to his feet, reorients himself. 

“What in the nine hells?” 

Turning, he finds a female, Mirialan, looking around, flour down her front and hands in her hair, tugging at it.

“Kriffing gundarks! You wrecked my roof!” She looks up, breath heaving, before making a frustrated noise. Eyes narrowing, she spots Stone, shouts, “Was this really necessary?”

Stepping back, Stone raises his hands, palms out, showing her he isn’t holding his weapon at the ready. 

“I was pursuing a suspect, ma’am. Your roof appears to have been structurally unsound.”

She waves a hand upward. “You don’t say!”

Stepping over a chair, legs missing, she stomps to Stone, expression furious. She jabs a finger at the still unconscious Balosar.

“Was he worth destroying my home?” 

Stone hesitates, steps back. “He’s a criminal.”

“Half the people down here are criminals! You going to demolish the entire sector to catch them as well?”

Before Stone can answer, the front door behind him crashes in, flies off its manual hinges and lands a foot away.

“Not my karking door too!”

The Security Forces’ droid plows in and several members rush in behind it. Their boots crush what few cups and plates weren’t destroyed and the droid rolls over the last unbroken chair, leaving a pile of broken wood in its wake. 

“Binders!” 

They slap the binders on the Balosar and pull him up, his head lolling grotesquely as they toss him to the droid that secures him in its grasp and then backs up, cracking a glass display full of pastries before speeding off, taking a chunk out of the door frame as it goes. 

Whether ignoring Stone or oblivious to him, he isn’t sure, the human members of Coruscant Security step over the wreckage and start to leave. 

“Hold up one karking minute!” The Mirialan shouts, jumping over a downed table and cutting off the last man. “What about this mess?”

“You can file a grievance,” he tells her, trying to side step her. “You’ll receive a review and compensation if needed.”

She blocks him. 

“If needed?” She waves a hand at her shop. “It’s needed!”

“File a grievan-”

“Like the one I filed a month ago?” She spits, jabs a finger at her front window, cracked down the middle with a large chip out of the top. “For when you thugs shook down Egrets and busted my window.”

Her eyes get bright as she points at her busted display. 

“I can’t even salvage my pastries today! They’re full of glass!”

Unaffected, the man nods. 

“You’ll receive a review and compensation if needed.”

Stepping around her, onto the downed door, he exits, leaving her grinding her teeth, glaring at the spot he’d vacated. 

Spinning, she kicks a teacup at his back, though it falls short and breaks just outside the door. 

“Ugh!”

Stone watches her fume for a moment, hands fisted in front of her, curious if she’s planning on chasing him, before clearing his throat. 

“Ma’am.”

Turning on her heels, she frowns, apparently having forgotten him. Then her eyes narrow.

“So help me, if you plan on telling me to file a requisition like your friends, I’ll  
march over there and rip your dick off.” She points towards the doorway. “So scarper. I’ve got a mess to clean up.”

Stone glances around. Calling the shop a mess is being kind. It’s a disaster, and possibly unsafe. 

Ignoring him, she crouches down and begins picking up broken glass, staking bits of plates and cups in her arms, muttering to herself as she goes.

Biting his lip, Stone watches her wade through the wreckage of her shop. 

She sniffles, rubs her nose and swats at her eyes, occasionally glances around and sighs.

Taking a breath, Stone spots a chair that appears intact near the display case and goes to it. 

“Not a total loss, see?” He tells her, picking it up and setting it on its feet. 

Straightening up, she shoots the chair an unimpressed look. 

Stone pats the back, a show of faith in its integrity, and it wobbles. 

“Fantastic. One wobbly chair.”

The display behind Stone creaks, then shatters, thin glass crashing around his feet. 

She sighs, shakes her head and walks to a dingy plastoid garbage bin, tosses her armful of broken glass in before putting her hands to her hips fixing Stone in an exhausted glare. 

“Are you done trashing what’s left of my belongings? Or would you like to go upstairs and toss the living quarters as well?”

Not waiting for an answer, she goes behind the dust covered counter and snatches up a broom, begins the futile job of sweeping. 

Stone sees her face crumple a bit, can hear her ragged breath as she turns her back to him, feebly sweeps at the insulation covering the duracrete floor. It’s both heart wrenching and a bit pathetic. He can’t leave her like this. It isn’t right. 

Crouching down, Stone picks up a half table and legs, hoists it and sets it on the broken display case, begins stacking glassware and broken chair bits on it. If he gets the larger pieces up, at least, it’ll make her work easier. 

Besides, the Guard won’t expect him back until the evening and Corrie Security aren’t likely to let him help with the interrogation, assuming they get the Balosar awake anytime soon.

Stone scoops the table half in his arms, awkwardly begins carrying it toward the back of the shop. There has to be a larger bin in the alley. 

He hears her stop, huff. 

“What’re you doing?”

He stops, tilts his bucket to look over his armful at her. 

Her eyebrows are raised as she surveys his load. 

“Er...helping?”

“Why?”

Shifting the bundle, Stone shrugs. 

“Because…” he searches his mind for an appropriate answer. “I’m decent?” 

She snorts. 

“No one with the Coruscant Police is decent.”

Straightening up, Stone grunts. 

“No argument here, ma’am, but I’m not Corrie Police.” He shifts the table again. “I’m Guard.”

The table tips a bit and he tilts it back to keep everything from sliding off. 

“You have a bin out back? This is a bit cumbersome.”

Nodding, she leads him around the counter, through the back of the shop, past a large mixer and dough covered worktop, out a heavy back door. 

The alley is dark, like the rest of the lower levels. Smells of rotting garbage and stale air. 

The bin is overfull, molding breads and fetid meats piled in, layered over broken liquor bottles and single use plastoid containers. Stone heaves his armful in, pushes on it to keep it from falling off. 

Dusting his gloves off, Stone turns and find the Mirialan staring at him, arms crossed and nose wrinkled. 

“What’s the Guard doing with those fools in Security? Bit small time for you, isn’t it?”

Stone shrugs. “Jurisdiction crossed. Unfortunately.”

She rolls her eyes.

“Good to know they’re so universally loved.”

Stone chuckles. “Yeah, it’s not exactly a choice assignment.”

Smiling, she laughs softly. 

“If my interactions with them are any measure, I’d have to say I understand the sentiment.” She gives the garbage a glare, as though just noticing it. “They skipped pick up again this week, I see.”

Stone studies her for a moment as she scowls at the overflowing bin.

Mirialan, with standard green skin, violet eyes and shoulder length, badly dyed violet hair that’s grown out, the roots a more mundane looking brown, and tiny diamond tattoos across her cheeks and over her forehead. She’s a bit rounded, her dress is too tight across her chest and hips. 

He’d say she’s pretty, but in the same way Senator Amidala is. Beautiful, but intimidating. 

Finally, she wrinkles her nose at the smell and waves for him to follow her back through the shop.

“I’ve got to get to the station,” Stone tells her, eyeing the rest of the shop, still wrecked. “But, ah, I can get your door back on at least, before I go.”

She shakes her head. 

“No, that’s-that’s okay, you helped more with one armful than the entire Coruscant Security has with an entire compensation team at their disposal.” She eyes the door sadly. “Besides, it’s a bit lofty. I saved up to get a blaster proof door after one of the gangs kicked in the last one. Windows were supposed to be blaster proof too, but that was clearly a lie.”

Knocking the edge of the door with his boot, Stone frowns, looks at the hinges and then over at the frame.

“It’s no trouble,” he tells her, stepping over the debris, going to the entrance and inspecting the frame.

Pulling out his knife, he unbends the hinges. It won’t be perfect, but it’ll hold.

“At least you’ll be secure.” Other than the gaping hole in her ceiling, that is. 

Squatting down, Stone works his fingers under the edge. 

“No, really, it’s quite heavy,” she warns. “There were two Gran and a Nautolan sent to install-”

Her concern trails off as Stone grunts, lifts the door and waddles with it to the frame. 

He shoves it in, slams it with the palm of his hand until the abused hinges click into place, then nods. “That ought to do it.”

Turning, he finds her staring, brows knitted together.

“How did you…” She frowns, steps closer, squinting at his visor for a moment before looking him up and down. “You’re quite strong.”

Stone shrugs. “I work out.”

“Work out?” She looks around him, at the door, then back. “Do you bench press swoops?”

Chuckling, Stone shakes his head. “Not quite.”

He starts to tell her it’s part of the genetic modifications, all the brothers have above average strength, but gets cut short by his comm.

“CC-5869, where are you?” The voice cracks from the secondary comm integrated to his wrist. Stone hadn’t deemed them worth of patching into his bucket. 

Sighing, he puts his wrist up.

“Commander Stone, here.”

“CC-5869, why have you not reported to holding?”

Because you idiots helped me trashed a shop and I’m the only one that stayed behind to attempt righting things, he thinks irritably. 

“Got caught up. Be there shortly.”

He mutes the comm, nods at the Mirialan.

“Duty calls, ma’am.”

She takes a breath, looks around at the mess.

“Mine too.”

Her hand shoots out. “Thank you for being the first decent government employee I’ve met.”

Stone stares at her hand for a moment, then reaches out. 

He almost points out that, technically, he’s not an employee, but the correction dies in his mouth when she takes his hand, firmly shakes it. Her hand is very soft, very warm. 

“I appreciate the assistance, Mr. Guard-er-Commander Stone, was it?”

Nodding, Stone let’s his hand fall to his side as she steps back. His fingers flex, a bit tingly.

“Stone, yes, ma’am.” He jerks his up, toward the hole. “And, to be fair, I caused a lot of the damage.”

“Voyanna,” she tells him, then glances upward, sighs and shakes her head. “And at least your damage wasn’t deliberate.”

That didn’t make the hole any less real.

“Hm, good luck with the request for compensation,” he tells her, briefly considering offering her the address to the Guard offices so she could file a grievance with them as well. 

He doesn’t though, mostly because he isn’t sure if citizens can file through them. As far as he knows, none ever have, and he doesn’t want to waste her time. 

She snorts. “Thanks, I’ll need it.”

The door grinds as Stone pulls it open, functional but not perfect, clearly, and hurries out, glancing back as he hears it noisily shut. 

Blinking through maps, Stone finds the quickest way back topside and jogs away, mentally preparing himself to deal with the bantha shit at Coruscant Security holding cells.


	2. ...you fall into mine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Star Wars, I only play with the characters.

Stone glares at the datapad, willing the report to finish itself. 

Of course the bastards had left the paperwork for him, and of course he’d not filed it to their standards. Why they waited two days to inform him of that was anyone’s guess. Incompetence would be Stone’s guess.

Tapping his leg, he finally reaches the end, signs his number, then files the pointless flimsi work. His bucket chirps with an incoming comm, Thire.

“Stone? You moving in there?”

Snorting, Stone gets up and stretches, back popping. 

“Yeah, they have better caf.”

“Bantha shit.”

“Heh.” Stone pops his neck. “About to head back. Just finished.”

“Well, hurry it up, we got the holo, the forbidden one.” Thire chuckles to himself. “Fox is pretending he doesn't want to watch it.”

“He’s a filthy liar.”

“Yeah, he needs it for the pointers.”

Stone chuckles to himself as he exits the tiny room he’d been allowed to use, stroll down the hall, past harried clerks and useless officers, to the main station room.

It’s packed, every species on Coruscant is present, as well as a few non sentients. Several are at desks, filing reports, stolen property, missing beings, robberies, while others are waiting their turns, tapping their feet and occasionally shouting complaints about how long they’ve been there.

Winding through them, getting nasty glares as he hums to himself, Stone makes his way to the main hall, down to the front of the building.

He’s halfway to the doors out, visions of porn filling his head, when he hears shouting.

Intending to ignore it, he starts to lower his external audio, then something catches his ear. 

“I’ve already filed the karking forms you blasted droid! I just want my shop repaired!”

Stopping, he pulls up the right rear view of his HUD and sighs.

Standing at one of the little windows along the main wall, banging on the clear plastoid barrier, is the Mirialan. Voyanna. 

Upping his audio, Stone listens as the droid speaks again.

“Miss Koyi, I’m sorry, but you filed the forms for a window, which are in process and will have a determination in...six to seven Coruscanti months-”

“Six or seven months!” She hits the window with her palm again. “You useless droid fierfek! I want a person! I want to speak to a living being, hear me?”

Turning, Stone spots a pair of security droids speeding toward the unruly citizen.

He grinds his teeth. Dammit.

He jogs over as the droids get stuck weaving through the lines. 

“I’ve a hole in my roof, do you understand that? A man sized hole!” She holds up three green fingers. “And three broken tables, chairs, a display!”

Stone stops just short of her as the droid begins explaining the process to request compensation.

“For a new request a new set of forms must be filed-”

“Shut up!”

“Ma’am,” Stone interrupts her before she can hit the window again. “Miss-uh-Voyanna, can I assist you?”

She glares at the droid for a moment longer, then looks at Stone, frowning.

Her eyes widen.

“Commander?” She scowls, looks back at the droid. “I’m afraid unless you can get this rolling garbage bin to provide me with actual help, I’m at a loss.”

The droid’s head tilts. “Miss Koyi, I am attempting to help you.”

Voyanna rounds on it.

“Like hell you are!”

Before she can begin banging on the window again, the security droids roll up. 

“Ma’am, you’re going to have to leave.”

“I will not,” she snaps.

Anticipating violence, probably from Voyanna, Stone steps between her and the droids. 

“I cannot help with the rolling bin, but I may be able to help with the rest.” He gestures to the door. “Please.”

Grinding her teeth, she shoots the droid behind the window one last furious look before sighing, deflating in defeat. “Fine.”

Relieved, Stone begins walking toward the exit, but stops when Voyanna doesn’t follow.

Turning, he sees her waving madly, over the top of the line.

Through the crowd, two small females, Mirialans, come running to her, then begin hurrying to Stone.

“I, uh, wasn’t aware you had children,” Stone says, once she’s caught up, eyeing the little ones at her side warily.

“My nieces,” she explains, picking the smaller one up and balancing her on her hip. “They were at school the other day.”

They aren’t quite miniature versions of her, since they’re evidently the offspring of a sibling, but they’re close. Same brown hair, violet eyes, tattoo across their little foreheads. Faces are the wrong shape though. Too long compared to Voyanna’s, a little sharper. 

“Who’re you?” The taller one asks.

“He’s Commander Stone. He’s Guard,” Voyanna answers for him.

The girl leans in, squints up. “Are you the one fell through our roof?”

Voyanna nods. “He is.”

The girl looks back at Stone. “Are you going to fix it?”

“He’s going to help us get it fixed,” Voyanna answers.

Nodding, the girl crosses her arms, sets Stone in a stern glare. “Good, because it’s rude to ruin other people’s stuff.”

“Uh, yeah,” Stone agrees, a bit wrong footed by the discussion.

Rubbing his neck, Stone waits, expecting another question he won’t get to answer.

Voyanna shifts on her feet, stares at Stone for a moment, then her expression softens.

“Oh, I’m-I’m sorry.” She pats the girl’s brown hair. “I try to answer to keep her from bombarding you. She’s a bit inquisitive.”

Nodding, Stone let’s his hand fall, takes a breath. 

“So...you can file a grievance with the Guard.” He winces under his bucket, hurries before she can say anything. “Normally it’s just senators, but there’s not rule I’m aware of keeping any citizen from filing.”

He doesn’t tell her none he knows of ever have. 

It may simply waste her time, but at least it’ll get her away from the police station, keep her from getting arrested. 

She stares at him for a few seconds, then lets out a long, defeated breath.

“Well, our day is wasted anyways.”

Waving towards the speeder, Stone nods.

“I’ll take you.”

-

“Is that the Senate building?” The older girl, Ayddya, ask, nose pressed to the speeder window. “I’ve never been this close.”

Stone chuckles. 

“Is it pretty inside? Are the senators nice? Are we going to see any? Can I-”

“Ayddya,” Voyanna hisses. “Be still. Quiet. You’ll drive the man mad.”

“No harm in her,” Stone assures her. He leans back a bit. “That’s the Senate Rotunda, I think it’s pretty inside-I’m not much of a judge on that-some of the senators are nice, others less so, and I doubt we’ll see any as we’re going to the Guard offices.”

She nods, seemingly content for the moment. 

Landing on the small area of the pad designated for the Guard, Stone opens the door and waits as Voyanna and the younglings crawl out, straighten their skirts and look around.

“It’ll be through here, ma’am.”

He leads them to the offices, where senate aides occasionally come to file grievances for their senators. It’s quiet, transparisteel forming a wall leading to the temporary office, only a handful of brothers staffed to run the department, sitting at desks, running reports and filing. 

“Oh.”

Frowning, Stone turns and sees Voyanna and the girls have stopped, are wide eyed as they look around.

“They all look alike,” Ayddya murmurs, big violet eyes scanning the room.

“When you said…” She bites her lip, shifts the smaller girl, Einnid, to her other hip. “I thought you meant…”

Oh. 

Stone looks at the troopers at the desks, buckets off, in drab soft shell uniforms.

“I thought you meant Senate Guard.”

He sighs. 

“No ma’am. Sorry.”

Ayddya’s mouth drops open in realization. 

“They’re the clone troopers, Tanti!” She darts away, grabs Stone by the belt and tugs. “Are you a clone too? Do you look like them? Will you take off your helmet so I can see?”

Voyanna grabs her by the arm and yanks her away. 

“But I want to see!”

“Ayddya!” She gives her a look, clearly allowing for no more argument, then looks at Stone, wary smile on her lips.

“I’m sorry-she’s…” she glances around, a bit panicked. “I’ve-we’ve never met a…”

She hesitates.

“A clone, ma’am?” He offers. 

Expression shifting, uncertain, she nods. 

“You just seemed so…”

“Normal?”

She grimaces. 

“Oh, that’s dreadful of me, isn’t it?”

Stone isn’t sure. He hasn’t had much interaction with civilians, there’s not much need for it. He can’t fault her for ignorance.

He shrugs, waits. 

When the quiet becomes overwhelming, he sighs. 

“I understand if you’d rather not file the grievance, ma’am.”

He’s disappointed, for some reason, but he understands. Clones, he’s told, make citizens uncomfortable. 

Her expression softens and she bites her lip, eyes peering through the transparisteel wall.

“Can’t do me any less good than the Coruscant Police grievance,” she tells him, little smile twitching at the edges of her lips. She waves a hand. “Lead the way.”

-

“It’s a bakery,” Stone hears Voyanna explain to Brick. “It’s zoned as such. I made sure.”

“It looks in order, ma’am.”

She nods, glances behind her to Stone and the younglings he’s entertaining. Entertaining that mostly entails answering every question that pops into Ayddya’s head. 

“Are you human in there?” Ayddya asks, again squinting up at him through the visor. 

“Last I checked.”

“Do you like being a clone?”

He shrugs. “Do you like being Mirialan?”

Her nose wrinkles. “That’s just what I am.”

“Well, I’m a clone, it’s just what I am.”

She nods. “Alright, fair point. How do you go pee in that suit?”

“Ayddya!” 

Voyanna gets up, hands on her hips. 

“That’s inappropriate.”

“Why?” She looks genuinely perplexed. “I didn’t ask if he’s got a penis or anything.”

Stone feels his face warm. He’s never been happier for the security of the bucket. 

Pressing her fingers to her eyes, Voyanna sighs. 

“This is why I get called to your school all the time,” she mutters to herself. 

Scooping up Einnid, Voyanna grimaces. 

“My apologies, Commander.” She grabs Ayddya’s hand. “I need a moment with her.”

While she drags Ayddya off, to a corner to have a whispered conversation with sharp looks and huffs of frustration, Stone goes to Brick’s desk. 

“What’s the outcome?”

Brick doesn’t answer at first, just stares blankly in the direction of Voyanna and the girls, then shakes his head. 

“Doesn’t look good, Commander.” He says, looking down at his datapad. “I didn’t want to say anything to the lady, she looks to have had a rough day, and I don’t do well with crying, but…”

He rubs his temple. 

“It, uh, won’t-her grievance won’t be processed with the same expediency the senators’ are. This will take up to six months for a determination, and then she’ll be lucky to get half the estimated loss value.”

Stone sighs. He was afraid of that. 

Of course senators, who have limitless resources would get speedy, complete repayment for their troubles, while a general citizen down and out gets the shaft. Typical. 

“What about the petty cash?” He asks, already forming a plan. 

“Petty cash, sir?”

Stone nods. 

“It-it wouldn’t be nearly enough,” Brick tells him. “You may, if you’re lucky, be able to get some of the raw material, but labor in that area...it’s expensive.”

Undoubtedly. They’d want money to pay for protection and as a safeguard in the event they’re robbed in such a seedy place. It would be added cost after added cost. 

“Could you check on the price of the materials for me?”

Brick frowns, line forming between his eyes, but nods all the same. 

“Good man, send the report to me as soon as it’s ready.”

Spinning, he crosses to Voyanna and the girls. 

“We should have a determination in a few days,” he lies. 

Voyanna’s eyes widen. “That soon?”

“Yes ma’am.”

A smile creeps up on her face. Then she bounces on the balls on her feet, squeezes Einnid. 

“Hear that? We’re getting our roof patched!”

Without warning, she grabs his hand, squeezes it. 

“You really don’t know what this means to me.” She blinks out a few tears, tries to shake them away. “I barely have the credits to cover my bills-this was the tipping point.”

Stone listens, watches one of the tears trail down her cheek and drip off her jaw, onto her chest. He shakes off the trance. 

“It’s no trouble, ma’am.”

Her expression clearly says she thinks it’s quite a lot of trouble, but she squeezes his hand again. 

Looking over, at the chrono ticking away on the wall, she smiles tightly, drops his hand. 

“Oh damn.” She looks between the girls. “We need to get going. If we miss the next transit shuttle we’ll never get home before midnight and you two have school tomorrow.”

She smiles for him again, watery and bright. 

“Again, thank you so much.” She snorts. “And feel free to give Coruscant Security a lesson on manners.” 

Grabbing Ayddya’s hand, she tugs her along as she twists, waves to Stone. 

“Goodbye, Stone!”

Einnid stares at him over her aunt’s shoulder, raises a timid hand before ducking down, burying her face in Voyanna’s hair. 

Through the transparisteel, Stone watches Voyanna shift Einnid again, give Ayddya a look, then leaves out the front doors. 

He starts to turn and head to the barracks, but stays frozen on the spot. 

Rubbing his neck, he pulls up his comm channel with Thire. 

“Gonna be late,” he tells him as he starts jogging toward the outside. “Have a few more things that just came up.”

Thire sighs dramatically. “Ah well, we’ll just watch it again when you get back.”

“Thanks, I’m sure it’ll be a real hardship.”

Thire chuckles as the channel cuts off. 

Sliding to a stop outside the exit doors, Thire scans the area and finds Voyanna and both younglings skirting the edges, searching for the way off the landing pad by following the fluorescent yellow arrows painted to the ground. 

Running across the pad, dodging a sweeper, Stone flags a hand. 

“Ma’am! Voyanna! Wait!”

He narrowly misses getting caught in the sweepers bristles before skidding stopped just short of them. 

“Did I forget something?”

He shakes his head. 

She waits, and Stone swallows hard, suddenly feeling foolish. If she’d wanted a ride she would’ve asked, wouldn’t she?

Too late for second thoughts, he thinks grimly, gritting his teeth. 

“No, I-I thought I would see if you like a ride home.”

For a second she’s quiet, and Stone’s insides roll with worry. Then a small, relieved smile ticks up at the edge of her mouth. 

“You really do put the Coruscant Police to shame.” Her shoulders relax. “I don’t want to trouble you...but a ride would be wonderful.”

A half grin forming behind his visor, Stone waves off her concern. 

“Eh, no trouble.” 

They walk back to the speeder they’d arrived in, Ayddya scrambling in the back, but Einnid staying latched to her aunt.

“Strap in, kid, we’re going a little faster this time”

He hardly traverses traffic like he normally does, weaving in and out of traffic and going above lanes, but he does go above the limit. He’s allowed to if the situation requires it, and he thinks bedtime requires it. 

“This is loads better than the transit shuttle,” Ayddya tells him, laughing as they zoom by a line of speeders waiting at a traffic signal, using the designated lane for security. “Do you have lights? Can you turn them on?”

“Yeah! I like lights!” Einnid squeals, finally finding her voice.

Voyanna presses a hand to her eyes. 

Chuckling, Stone shakes his head. 

“We don’t have lights on the speeders. Don’t want the baddies to know we’re coming.”

They drop down, through a rounded entry point, to the lower levels. 

There’s artificial lighting, dim and pale white, affixed to the undersides of the upper levels, providing fractional illumination. Mostly though, it’s dark and lighted by fluorescents, occasional bioluminescent plants that provide both light and much needed oxygen.

Weaving through cramped buildings, stacked, level upon level, along the narrow alleys, he finally spots the path he’d taken days before.

Slowing, he spots the bakery. 

A tarp of some kind has been stretched over the man sized hole, held in place by lumpy looking packages. There’s water standing at the center, bowing it in. Scheduled ‘rain’ to clear the filthy air, if he were to guess.

Landing, he rushes around and opens the passenger door.

“Again, thank you,” Voyanna tells him again. “You saved us several hours, really.”

He doesn’t doubt it. The transit between levels is painfully inefficient. Clone engineering has offered to investigate ways to make it faster, cleaner, less cumbersome, but they’d yet to have the offer taken.

“Again, it’s no trouble.”

He waves at the building, takes a breath. He needs to assess the damage, take stock of what material he’ll need.

“Would you mind if I came and surveyed the damage?” He asks. “In case the reviewer has any questions. They won’t bother you then.”

He almost smiles. It’s the smoothest lie he’s ever told. 

She nods. “Of course.” 

Following her, Ayddya trailing behind him, Stone waits as she opens the door, wincing as it groans open.

Mentally, he adds it to the repair list.

The debris has been swept away, the small bin stuffed full and a few pieces of broken chair stacked beside it. All the glass in the display case has been fully removed, replaced by opaque stretch plastoid. He can see a few colorful pastries blurred behind it.

Looking up, he sees the hole on the inside has been hidden with towels, stitched together and tossed across. Blinking, he has his HUD begin taking measurements, determining what materials he’ll need, and calculating the amount. 

Reaching up, he pops the seals on his bucket and takes it off. Much as he appreciates the bucket, the constant feed of information makes focusing on the mundane task of assessing the damage himself. It’ll continue its work without him anyways. 

“You do look like them,” Ayddya says, head tilted as she looks up at him. Her nose wrinkles. “What’s happened to your hair? Did it fall out?”

Stone runs his hand over his head. “No, uh, shaved it.”

“Did you sell it?”

He frowns. “Sell? No, who would sell hair?”

Ayddya opens her mouth to explain, but Voyanna cuts in. 

“Take your sister and wash up for bed.”

“But-”

“Now.”

With a sulky look, Ayddya grabs Einnid’s hand and tugs her along, muttering to herself as they vanish up the narrow stairs behind the counter. 

Looking up, Stone spots some plumbing that was narrowly missed in the fall. It looks questionable though, so he decides to figure it into his work. 

“That was a bit of a fall,” he hears Voyanna say, turns and finds her looking up at the hole as well, hands on her hips. She frowns, looks at him. “You weren’t injured?”

He shakes his head. 

“Armor absorbed most of the impact.” He rubs his head, looks up at the hole again. “Besides, we were engineered to take a beating. Manufactured for injuries heal fast when we get them.”

“Oh, that’s-that’s interesting,” she says, tone a bit uneasy. 

Looking back at her, Stone finds her pressing her hands to her stomach, eyeing him with an indefinite wariness. 

Stone gives her a half smile. He forgot, talk of clone manufacturing is upsetting to some nat-borns. 

“It is, what it is,” he tells her. He points up. “Can I look at the upper level?”

She leads him up the narrow little stairs her nieces had gone up. 

Both she and Stone duck at the top, into a small living area. It’s bleak, a couch in worse shape than the one they’d rescued from the dump and put in Fox’s office, threadbare rug in a dull shade of brown, and an outdated holprojector in the corner. 

“Over here.” 

She opens a door on the right, it’s not a closet as he’d thought during his drop, but a bedroom. 

It’s small, maybe the size of the office he, Thire, and Thorn share, though that’s being generous. The bed is nothing more than a mattress piled with blankets and a lumpy pillow. There’s a couple of cords stretched between the walls, clothing hung up along it. 

Stone feels his face heat up when he notices a laundry basket with panties and bras, folded and stacked neatly in it. He freezes for a moment, gaze fixed on faded lace and fraying straps, then studiously looks away from it. 

Ducking under the sagging clothesline, he sees the hole. They’d missed ending up tangled in women’s clothing by inches. 

His helmet in hand, he slips it on and takes more measurements, more detailed assessments, then takes it off again. 

“That ought to be enough,” he tells her. “Give me a few days and I’ll get you sorted out.”

Once he figures out how to rearrange his nonexistent finances and find suitable materials. 

She nods, takes a breath, a little smile forming on her lips. 

“Thank you, I mean it.” Her expression softens. “I know it wasn’t a ‘choice assignment’, but I’m glad you got stuck working with Coruscant Security. I’m glad it was you fell through the roof. I mean, I’d rather no one fall through it, but better you than one of them.”

He chuckles. “Because I’m getting it fixed?”

“Because you give a damn.” She snorts. “I’m not sure what it says of this galaxy that the most decent person I’ve met in ages talks about being ‘engineered’ and ‘manufactured’.”

He shrugs. He isn’t sure either. 

She leads him back downstairs, snatches up a container and begins putting colorful pastries in it before pressing it to Stone’s middle. 

“They’re a day old, so the health inspector says I can’t sell them. They’ll still taste fine though, just heat them up.”

“I can’t-”

She gives him the same stern look she’d given Ayddya, silences him. 

“Either you take them or I have to toss them.”

He balances them in his hand, opens the lid and inspects them. 

They’re pretty. Delicate looking. Bright colors and sugary. 

“My brothers will appreciate this,” he finally tells her. 

“Brothers?” 

“The other clones in the Guard, ma’am.”

Her confusion softens into something almost sad. 

“Of course, brothers.” She smiles. “That’s sweet.”

He isn’t sure of that, but nods. 

Starting for the door, he turns, pastries in one hand and bucket in the other. 

“There are still decent people out there,” he tells her. 

Her eyes roll and she gives him a good natured smile. 

“Besides you and your brothers?”

He nods. 

“Are there? Well then, you’ll have to introduce me sometime.”

“Can’t introduce you to yourself.”

Smile freezing, she stares at him for a moment before laughing softly. 

“Cute, sweet, and funny, now I know for sure you were grown in a lab.”

Stone’s stomach flips and he grins. “Have a good evening, ma’am.”

She snorts. “Call me Voyanna. You don’t get to ogle a girl’s unmentionables and call her ma’am.”

Flushing, Stone opens his mouth to defend himself, he’d not stared. Not long anyways. 

Her nose wrinkles up as she grins broadly.

“Thought I missed that, didn’t you?”

Jamming his bucket back on, Stone clears his throat. 

“Have a good evening, then, Voyanna.”

Hurrying out the door, he sets the container beside him in the seat of the speeder and takes off, already planning his next journey down and all the repairs awaiting. 

He grins to himself, chuckles. 

She said he was cute.


	3. Just like any other

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Star Wars, I only play with the characters.

It had taken three days after promising Voyanna he’d get her roof fixed before he’d been able to gather tools, borrowed from clone engineering, and materials, of dubious origin, to begin his work.

“You want to borrow tools?” One of the engineers had asked, trying to wipe caf from his uniform. “Why?”

Channeling Fox, Stone glared. “Are you in the habit of routinely questioning commanders?”

The engineer paled. “No, sir.”

Stone felt bad for scaring the kid into compliance, but couldn’t think of a suitable explanation. He’d taken him some of Voyanna’s pastries the next day, as an apology.

The materials Brick had assisted him with. 

Petty cash proved to be absolutely woeful, but he managed to get Stone enough to cover some materials.

“If-when her reparations are approved and provided, we will replace what we took,” Brick explained. “But, sir, this isn’t enough. Not even close.”

Stone nodded, rubbed his head as he thought.

“They’re refurbishing those conference rooms in the east wing,” he’d finally said. “The materials are only a few years old. Maybe they can be reused?”

Technically, it’s all trash, bound for the incinerator and no longer anyone’s legal property. Brothers have been reappropriating things from the Senate garbage since they’ve been stationed in Coruscant. It’s a bit of a gray area as far as legality, but no one has said anything about it.

Brick looked dubious. “Possibly.”

Despite his doubts, he actually goes out with Stone and digs through the trash to retrieve materials, pulling the least battered of it out and stacking it in a speeder and storing a few simple chairs Stone thinks might be suitable replacements for the ones he’d landed on.

After patrol he sneaks out and heads to the lower levels. 

After sunset it’s even dimmer below, more crowded with shifty looking denizens. Illicit deals being made on corners and people ducking into dens for illegal gambling and other seedy activities. 

It’s too far reaching for any action to be taken, so the Coruscant Police and every other agency turns a blind eye. 

Sighing, Stone steers the speeder to the alley and sets it down, hops out and grabs up his duffle and slings it over his shoulder. He scoops up a pile of the materials, new and old, tucks them under his arm and gets out. 

The alley light is flickering and the smell of rot is strong as he stands at the bottom of the pair of steps up to the back door, reaches up and knocks. 

It takes a moment, Stone suspects there’s a peephole hidden along the seam of the doorway, and then the door groans open. 

Yellow light spills out, blinding bright, and Stone has to blink his vision clear even with the assistance of his HUD. 

“Commander Stone?”

Voyanna stands just inside, plainly confused, hands on her hips and flour smeared on her apron and smudged across the tattoo on her cheek. Her lips quirk up. 

“You know, I didn’t expect you to personally come fix the roof?”

Stone shrugs, grateful for the bucket. 

“There was a-the wait for a contractor was...a bit long.”

Leaning on the doorframe, she snorts. 

“You’re a really bad liar, you know?” She chuckles. “But as I’m a bit desperate for the roof, I’ll pretend you're a beacon of truth.”

Stone grins under his helmet. “Much obliged, ma’am.”

He steps up and she starts to move out of the way, stopping halfway. Her expression shifts from amused to concerned. 

“Do you-do you know how to repair roofs?”

Stone nods. 

“Of course.” He steps up and in, tilts his head. “Did a sim on it.”

Her nose wrinkles. “Sim?”

Stone nods again. “A simulation.”

He brushes past her, but doesn’t miss the look of panic on her face. 

Simulations, he’s been told, worry natborns. Saché had specifically told him it was viewed as a bit unnatural.

“That’s creepy,” she’d added, when Thorn told her they’d even learned some basic health and hygiene from sims, when they’d been freshly decanted.

Still, however they felt about it, Stone has confidence in his simulations. 

Humming, he shifts his loads and heads toward the stairs. 

“I’ll get to work,” he calls out, ascending the steps, leaving her with her worry in the kitchen. 

-

The roof proves to be a bit more daunting than he’d anticipated. 

Patching the hole would be easy enough, but everywhere he steps is boggy, threatening to collapse. 

Sighing, he begins pulling out his tools, then sets to work. 

It’s hot, dirty work. An hour in he’s shed his bucket and upper armor, sweat soaking through his blacks and a layer of dirt settled on them, turning them a dull shade of gray. 

After a few hours, all the roof is upturned and ready, and he’s down on his hands and knees setting out the new resistant boards, when he hears a sharp breath behind him. 

“Kriffing hells, I thought you meant to repair the roof, not rip it up more!”

Turning, he rubs his face, smearing sweat and filth down it before grimacing. 

Voyanna’s got her hands in her hair, eyes wide as she surveys the damage, chest heaving as she takes deep, frantic breaths, her too tight top threatening to burst with each breath. 

“It-er-it all needed some work so I...well I decided I might as well just...fix it.”

He forces a smile as she stares at him. 

For a moment she simply stares, then processes what he’s said. Her hands drop from her head to her sides as she nods. 

“That’s...well-I...thanks,” she finally says, smiling weakly. “I didn’t mean to snap, I just…”

Standing, Stone dusts himself off, nods. 

“It’s understandable.” He forces a smile. “I probably should’ve warned you what I was doing.”

Crossing her arms, she shakes her head. 

“No, you’ve been a real darling and I just assumed the worst.”

Stone doesn’t doubt that the worst is normally a pretty accurate assumption, given her residence and place among the Coruscanti social ladder. He can hardly blame her for the leap. 

“It’s forgivable,” Stone assures her. 

She nods, stares at him for a moment, lips parted a fraction, one hand at her chest, before Stone clears his throat. 

“Did you need something? Or just checking progress?”

Blinking, she shakes off her stupor, smiles faintly. 

“No, I came to see-I came to ask if you’d like dinner.” She glances around. “You’ve been working pretty hard.”

Stone shakes his head. 

“Thank you, ma’am, it’s alright. I brought rations.”

She huffs. “I know protein loaf is a bit dry and flavorless, but it’s warm and homemade. May not be much better than rations, but surely a bit.”

When Stone hesitates, she puts her hands to her hips. 

“Look, I’m not explaining to the authorities why I’ve got a dead clone on my roof, so come eat and have something to drink before you keel over.”

It’s close to the same tone she’d used with her niece, but there’s a hint of something softer in it. 

“What happens if I refuse?”

She huffs. “I’ll drag you down and force feed you. I’ve done with Ayddya when she was younger.”

Stone arches an eyebrow. “Not much incentive for me to be agreeable.”

Snorting, she rolls her eyes. “You’re definitely a man under all that.”

Waving a hand toward the stairs, she jerks her head. 

“Come on. If nothing else you can get a bit of entertainment from the girls’ dramatics over dinner.”

Obediently, Stone follows her, sniffing the air as they descend into the living quarters. It’s an odd blend of spices and meat and Stone is glad to be forced to eat...whatever it is. 

There’s a small table in the far left of the living area, behind the broken down couch, an odd orange plastoid with mismatched legs and even more mismatched chairs set around it. Already seated are the two little girls, both turned in their chairs, watching the ancient holoprojector, a younglings program playing. 

“Stone!” Ayddya squeaks. “Is she making you eat the loaf too?”

“I’m not forcing him to do anything,” Voyanna tells her, countering her own threat from only minutes before. “You, on the other hand, I will.”

Ayddya makes a face and mutters something as Stone takes up the seat beside her. 

Einnid cups her hands around her mouth and whispers, loudly, “It’s yucky!”

Voyanna huffs. “It’s not that bad.”

“It’s not good either,” Ayddya grumbles, poking hers with her fork. 

Stone chuckles. 

Dramatics indeed.

-

Protein loaf is better than rations, to be certain. It’s warm and seasoned, and Stone takes a second helping when offered, but he can appreciate why the texture isn’t wholly to the younglings’ liking. 

“It’s gross,” Ayddya complains as she picks at the mush. 

When Voyanna gets up, Stone hastily scoops some of it off both girls’ plates and trades them a few of the dehydrated orange sticks they’d also been given. He stuffs it in his mouth and swallows it before she can come over and work out what’s been done. 

“Where’d your loaf go?”

“Ate it,” Ayddya lies, too quickly to be believable. 

Einnid nods. “Yup.”

Voyanna narrows her eyes, leans down and looks under the table before straightening up, still suspicious. 

“Did you hide it in your pockets again?”

Ayddya sighs and rolls her eyes, stands and stuffs her hands in her pockets, proving they’re empty.

Voyanna’s nose wrinkles up. “Hmm.”

Finally, she sighs, rubs her temples. 

“Alright then. I don’t believe for a moment you’ve eaten it, so if you come up hungry tonight you’re out of luck.”

It’s enough of a dismissal for the younglings. They both shoot out of their seats, leaving their half eaten meals and dirty plates behind. 

They collapse in front of the holoprojector, change it to ‘Corellian General’. 

“Ugh,” Voyanna grunts, stacking the plates. “I’ve not watched that stupid show since that’s ridiculous triangle with Vanc, Cepha, and that Twi’lek.”

Stone picks up his plate and carries it to the counter, sets it beside the sink where she’s begun washing up. 

“Yeah, me either.” 

Which is only half a lie. He hasn’t watched it, but more for lacking time than frustration with plot. 

“You watched ‘Corellian General’?”

He nods. 

She rinses a plate. “That’s funny.”

Stone frowns. “Why?”

A half grin forms on her lips as she quickly looks him up and down. 

“Seems a bit soft for a soldier.”

Picking up a towel, Stone feels heat creep up his neck as he dries the first plate. 

“We-uh-we started watching to learn social norms,” he tells her. “You know we-we only had one another and when we started having to interact with the public...it seemed more informative than the flash training.”

Which had been near useless. A holosoap wasn’t fantastic, or particularly realistic, but it at least gave them a baseline better than the poorly constructed modules the Kaminoans had provided. It, the HoloNet, and the Naboo aides were their best sources of information on civvies. 

Grin fading, she quickly looks back to her sudsy water. “Oh.”

When Stone starts to go to the table to clear the rest, the empty dish where the loaf had been and the cups, she catches him by the arm. 

“You don’t have to clean up, you know?”

He hadn’t, not really, but it had seemed the polite thing to do. 

Rubbing a hand over his head, he nods. “I’ll get back to work then.”

She opens her mouth to say something, looks a bit stricken, but Stone hurries off before she can speak. 

He’s back on his hands and knees for nearly an hour when he hears feet pounding up the stairs and the door flies open. 

“We brought your pudding!” Ayddya announces, bounding over a pile of old roof, a pastry wrapped in a tea towel in her hands. 

Einnid appears much slower, a glass of something blue held careful between her little hands, Voyanna hovering at her back, anxious eye on the sloshing liquid. 

Setting back on his heels, Stone smiles as Ayddya holds the pastry out. 

“We ate ours already,” she tells him, setting cross legged beside him. 

Einnid, tongue between her lips in concentration, holds the glass out. “I brought the milk.”

Falling back with a grunt, Stone crosses his legs and takes the glass. 

“I picked the flavor, it’s Blum fruit,” Ayddya informs him. 

“It’s good,” Stone tells her, trying to keep the goo from oozing out after the first bite. 

“It’s good with the milk,” Einnid tells him. “Drink.”

Hesitantly, Stone lifts the glass to his nose, sniffs it. No scent in particular. 

“It’s just milk,” Ayddya giggles. “Why are you smelling it?”

Smiling weakly, Stone shrugs. 

“Never had blue milk before,” he admits, feeling a bit sheepish. 

It’s a youngling drink, but Stone had never technically been a youngling. 

“Never had blue milk?” Ayddya looks to Voyanna, probably thinking he’s joking, then back to Stone. “How can you not have had blue milk? What did you drink when you were little?”

Stone decides an explanation of clone growth patterns, that he’s probably only a few standard years older than her, isn’t appropriate. It’s too technical and he doesn’t want to admit his age in front of Voyanna. 

“Fortified water, supplemented juice.”

With that, he sips his milk. It’s not bad, though he’d prefer the Corellian brandy Thire has hidden in Fox’s office. 

As he eats, Ayddya begins asking questions again. 

“Do you shoot people with your blaster?”

“Ayddya,” Voyanna says in a warning tone, but Stone smiles. 

“It’s okay,” he assures her before answering. “Not if I don’t have to.”

“Have you shot anyone before? What about today?”

“Before, yes, but not today.”

She props her chin in her hand, elbow to knee. 

“Why didn’t you shoot the man the day you fell through the roof? Instead of chasing him, I mean.”

“They needed him alive.”

“Why?” 

“To interrogate.”

“Why?”

“Because he had information.”

Though Stone has yet to hear any relevant intel from said interrogation. 

“About what?”

Stone chuckles. “That’s classified.”

Her mouth opens to fire off another question, but Voyanna cuts her short. 

“That’s enough of your interrogating for the night,” she tells her. “Up you get. Wash up and get to bed, the both of you.”

Sulking, Ayddya gets up and slowly walks to the stairs, shooting a pitiful look over her shoulder before vanishing down. Einnid, in contrast, smiles and waves. 

“Nite, nite!”

Stone laughs as she hops away, pigtails bouncing as she skips down the steps.

Voyanna rolls her eyes as she turns back to him, crosses her arms. She stares at him for a moment before smiling. 

“You nearly done for the night?”

Frowning, he shakes his head. 

“Figured I’d work a few more hours.”

Her nose wrinkles. “Did you not work today? Aren’t you tired?”

He arches an eyebrow. 

For a minute she stares, confused, then her eyes widen before she presses a hand to her mouth, muffles a snort of laughter. 

“Force, now you know where Ayddya gets it, don’t you?” 

Chuckling, he folds the tea towel and holds it out to her.

“I had patrol today, but a few hours sleep is all I need.” He taps his chest. “Part of the genetic modifications.”

Making a face, she shakes her head. “Be that as it may, I’d rather not rob you of what little sleep you do get.”

He starts to argue, but bites his tongue. Highlighting his differences feels counterproductive somehow. 

“Are you...sending me to bed?”

She makes a garbled noise. 

“Yes, I suppose I am.” She jerks her thumb over her shoulder. “Off with you. Wash up, get some sleep.”

He grins. “Yes, ma’am.”

Her eyes narrow and his grin widens.

“Voyanna.”

She nods. “Better.”

-

Dinner becomes a regular occurrence over the next few weeks. He misses it one evening, arrives a few hours late to find Voyanna and the girls on the verge of venturing topside to look for him. 

“We were worried,” Ayddya told him, hand on her hips, mimicking her aunt. 

“You aren’t hurt are you?” Voyanna prodded, eyes scanning him for injury, fingers flexing, ready to patch him up if need be.

He’d explained it away, a boring problem with the senate tram, not wanting to excite them with the details of a bomb threat. It had come to nothing, so he’d treated it as such.

Voyanna brought him a plate and glass of tepid water, sat with him on the roof and refused to let him get to work until he’d eaten.

“I’m designed to maintain on the bare minimum,” he tried to explain to her as she sat against the low wall of the roof with him.

She made a face. “Just because you can, doesn’t mean you have to.”

He’d forced the bubbling feeling at her concern down. She’d say the same to anyone, any brother.

Beyond dinner, he gets the constant attention of Ayddya and Einnid.

They take to setting on the steps before dinner, surveying the progress and chattering. Ayddya asks endless questions.

“What’re the barracks like?”

“Do you get to go to the senate balls?”

“Why do Quarran have tentacles?”

“Did you have baby teeth?” 

The last question had actually stumped him the most. He couldn’t remember.

Her questions are simple though, compared to the ones Einnid occasionally asks.

“What’s your favorite color?” She holds up a blank sheet of flimsi. “I’m making you a picture.”

Stone stops his work, sits back on his heels and frowns. “I don’t know.”

He’d never much considered it.

“Red?” She prompts, holding a marker up in example. “Like your pants?”

Ayddya huffs. “That’s his armor, dumb-dumb.”

Einnid sticks her tongue out. 

Stone looks down at his thigh armor, runs his hand over it.

“I didn’t pick red,” he tells them. “The Chancellor chose it.”

Truthfully, he’s a bit indifferent to it.

“Not red,” he finally says, looking between them. A little half smile forms on his lips. “I think I like green.”

“Green,” Einnid echoes, nodding to herself as she begins furiously coloring.

A minute later she scurries to him, holds the flimsi out for inspection. 

“Here, it-its for you.”

It’s all in green. Four stick figures, two large and two small, handless arms joined together across the page. There’s a green sun over head and a green bucket at the feet of one of the taller figures. 

“Do you like it?” She asks, eyes big and worried.

Stone grins. “It’s a masterpiece. Reckon I’ll have to fight the other boys to keep it to myself.”

She giggles, pokes him in the nose. “You’re silly.”

Chuckling, he starts to poke her back, but gets cut short by the door opening below them, Voyanna peering up, hands on her hips. 

“Are you lot getting hungry? I’ve got dinner ready.”

Pushing up, Stone grunts as he gets to his feet, waves a hand. “Famished, but come up here first.”

Gathering her skirt up, a bit baggy, she takes the steps, peeks over the edge, eyes widening. 

“You’ve finished!”

Both Ayddya and Einnid, who’d been too absorbed in questions and coloring to pay Stone’s progress much mind, blink and look around, eyes going wide.

“You have!”

They both scramble up and race around the roof, now cleared of even the debris, which Stone had dropped over the edge, into the still overfilled bin in the alley. Stomping, they search for soft spots, now all gone.

“I guess those simulations are worth the credits,” Voyanna murmurs, looking over the roof. 

Stone watches as she walks to where the hole had been, crouches down and runs a hand over it. Her smile widens.

“You’re quite the handyman.”

Heat creeping up his neck, Stone scratches the back of his head. 

“Thanks.”

Standing up, she smoothes out her skirt and looks around at the girls. 

“Let’s get down to dinner.” She cuts Stone a look. “And we’re having ice cream for dessert to celebrate having a roof again.”

Einnid squeals, grabs Voyanna’s hand and begins tugging her toward the stairs, the prospect of the treat clearly overwhelming. 

Laughing, Voyanna lets Einnid drag her to the stair and down, listening to her babble about toppings as they descend the steps, stopping halfway down when Einnid misses a step. Ayddya begins gathering up their flimsi and markers, so Stone kneels down and helps her. 

“Why green?” She asks, once all the markers are tucked away and the flimsi stacked. 

Stone stands, pops his back and glances down the stairs, catching Voyanna vanishing through the door with Einnid now cradled in her arms. He shrugs.

“Lots of pretty things are green.”

She nods sagely. “Like plants.”

Stone snorts. “Yeah, like plants.”

-

“You promise you’re coming back?” Ayddya asks for the seventeenth time, as she sets her empty bowl in the sink. 

She’s been worrying since dinner, certain the roof completion means Stone is never returning. Despite his assurances, he’s still got quite a lot of work to do inside, in the cafe and Voyanna’s room, she’s still anxious. 

Stone finishes slurping the melted ice cream from his bowl, scrapes the chocolate shavings out, nods. “Promise.”

Einnid sits up on her knees beside him, takes his face between her sticky hands and squishes it.

“Promise, promise?”

He isn’t sure what that means, but nods just the same. “Pomise, pomise.”

Pleased, she flops back, nearly bouncing off and into the coffee table. 

“Alright, off to bed,” Voyanna announces, scooping Einnid up and tossing her over her shoulder. “You too, Ayddya.”

With the usual amount of sulking, Ayddya shuffles off to her and Einnid’s shared room, casting hopeful looks at Stone up until Voyanna huffs and tells her to brush her teeth.

“You’d think I was torturing them, the way they act,” she grumbles when she re-emerges, shutting their door behind her.

Laughing, Stone dries the last bowl, sets it on the counter.

“Well, when I was a cadet, we’d sneak out, crawl through the ventilation after lights out.”

Leaning against the counter, she crosses her arms, arches an eyebrow.

“What did you sneak out to do, exactly?”

Stone feels his face burn almost instantly.

“To-uh-sneak holos.” Perfectly true.

She leans in, eye sparkling. “What kind of holos?”

Looking at the counter, Stone mops up a little water. “I’d rather not say.”

He doesn’t think mentioning the filthy porn his brothers had spliced to get their grubby hands on will garner him any kind of approval. 

She snorts. “That tells me plenty.”

Taking the towel, she shakes her head, looks at the bowl. “You don’t have to clean up. You are, in fact, a guest here.”

He frowns. Not helping hadn’t occurred to him. It seemed like a natural thing to do. 

“I’ll try to be less considerate, in the future.”

“See that you do.”

For a moment she’s quiet, biting her lip, before sighing. 

“You’re extraordinarily patient, do you know that?”

Stone frowns and she jerks her head toward the girls’ bedroom door.

“With the little mynocks, I mean.”

Stone shrugs. “It’s no big deal.”

“It is, actually.” She presses her fingers to her temples. “I love Ayddya dearly, but she’s a bit of a rattle.”

Scratching at the back of his head, Stone snorts. 

“Well, you know, she’s little.” It’s normal. He checked.

“That hardly stops her being annoying as a bug in the ear.”

Shrugging, Stone grins. “Well, I’m engineered to withstand stress. She’s hardly registering as a nuisance.”

A scowl sets on Voyanna’s face.

“Don’t do that.” She tells him, her tone stern as it is with the girls when they’re getting rowdy. “Don’t give those bastards credit for you being a good man.”

Staring, he tries to process what she’s said, but falters. It doesn’t make sense. He was manufactured, plain and simple. Pretending otherwise seems wrong.

“Would all of your brothers have come here to fix my roof? Would they put up with being smothered by the girls?”

He half wants to make a joke, tell her that any man with eyes would want to spend time in her orbit, even just to make repairs on her shop, but bites it back. The moment seems wrong. 

Most of the brothers he knows, would do the right thing. That’s what he tells himself. He’s certain. He’s positive. There’s nothing extraordinary about what he’s doing.

“You don’t have to be here,” she adds. “But you are. That’s your choice, not something programmed in.”

Much as he’s sure it’s nothing special, hearing her tell him it is, that he’s unique, is a bit overwhelming. His eyes sting and he blinks it away.

“Thanks,” is all he can manage to mutter.

Reaching out, she pats his hand. “Go home, get some rest.”

He almost points out he hasn’t got a home, just the barracks, but decides against it. His brothers are there, so it’s as close to a home as he’ll likely ever have.

She walks him out, scooping up a small paper wrapped package as they pass through the kitchen and holds it out to him. “For breakfast.”

Staring at the little package, Stone frowns. 

There’s something, a feeling he can’t quite place a name on, wrapped up with the package and the flimsi drawing tucked safely in his belt. He knows it, but there’s something different to it, something less bred in and more decided upon.

“Go on, it’s the jogan ones you like. I don’t want you running around on an empty belly.”

Blinking, Stone looks from the package to her face.

She's got the same stern expression now as she has when telling Ayddya to eat her dinner or Einnid to be careful and not stand on the chairs. Stern, but out of concern, out of affection.

A smile twitches upon his lips. Affection for him. 

He gently takes it from her, turns it over in his hand. Someone, Ayddya by the blocky script, has written ‘for Stone’ on the back, and Einnid has drawn a smiling sun beside that.

Chest feeling tight, he takes a breath, smiles. 

“No lunch?”

Her expression eases. “Can’t spoil you too much, can I? Even the girls eat lunch at school.”

Chuckling, he pushes the door open.

“See you tomorrow, Stone.”

Once he’s in the speeder, he watches to make sure she gets the door shut, locked, secure, before starting the engine. Even then, he sits for a moment longer, picks up his package of pastries and stares at it.

Handmade, hand wrapped, decorated just for him. Tracing his name with his finger, he looks up at the door. She’ll see him tomorrow. 

Reaching in his belt, he pulls out Einnid’s drawing, at the clumsy stick figure Stone linked between the other figures. 

If he failed to show up tomorrow, they’d pack up and come looking for him. They care about if he eats enough, sleeps enough, makes it through the day, if he lives or dies. They don’t have to, but they do. 

Voyanna thinks he’s special.

That tightness settles in his chest again, familiar but confusingly new, and he takes a breath. It’s too late to contemplate what it is, even though he’s sure he knows.

With one last survey, confirming there are no beings lurking in the alley awaiting his departure, Stone speeds off.

-

Drying his head, rubbing the thin towel over the fresh shave before looping it over his shoulders, Stone sets on his bunk. He tilts his head, watches Thorn dig through his footlocker, toss his handful of pilfered possessions out as he searches for something.

“What, exactly, are you looking for?” Thire asks, arms crossed over his chest as he leans on the upper bunk.

“My cologne.”

Thire makes a face. “That akk urine?”

“It’s fancy.”

“It’s disgusting.”

“You lack culture.”

“You lack a sense of smell.”

Stone snorts. He agrees with Thire. It’s vile.

“What do you need it for?” Stone finally asks, tapping his ear with the towel.

Thorn sets back on his heels, grins. “Got a date with Keeta.”

Thire snorts. “That Mikkian? The lounge singer? “

“The very one.”

Waving his fingers, Thire grimaces. “Tentacles creep me out.”

“They are ‘tendrils’, and they are not creepy,” Thorn corrects him. “And you are one to talk. What about the Zabrak? Horns just jutting out there.”

Thire rolls his eyes. “To each his own, I suppose.”

Stone frowns, looks between them, processing what Thire’s said. 

Different likes. Different wants. Different species. 

“You would think,” he finally says, “we would all have the same taste.”

Both Thire and Thorn quiet. 

“Yeah, I suppose we should,” Thire mutters, not looking entirely certain what Stone is heading towards. 

Rubbing at a knot in his neck, Stone nods. “But we do not. We all like something different.”

He looks between them. 

“Do you have a favorite color?”

“Purple,” Thorn answers without pause. “Definitely, purple.”

“Purple?” Thire rolls his eyes. “Why purple?”

Thorn scowls. “Becau-well, what is your favorite color?”

Thire stares, then shrugs.

“I-I don’t know. I never thought about it.” A grin forms. “I know what Fox’s would be, though.”

Blue. They all agree on that, get a good chuckle at their absent brother’s expense. 

Thorn finds his awful cologne, douses himself in enough to make all their eyes water, then heads out, leaving Thire to a short nap and Stone to his thoughts. 

The same, superficially, but different. They’re all making different choices, when given a chance, within their narrow confines. He’s unique. Voyanna and the girls see that.

Sighing, he lays back, rolls on his side and closes his eyes. He’ll think about it more in the morning. 

After breakfast.


	4. Beginning of a beautiful...something

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Star Wars, I only play with the characters.

“Which is it?” Voyanna asks, pulling two tools from the duffle, identical other than the size. 

Stone squints out from under the sink, water from the leak dripping on his head. “The smaller.”

She holds it out.

With a grunt, Stone takes it and tightens the new fitting, saved from Senator Orn Free Taa’s bathroom remodel dump. A perfect fit.

“That ought to do it,” he says, pulling himself out from the cabinet and resting his arms on his knees for a moment. “Should drain better.”

Voyanna stays seated on her little stool, tilting her head to peak under at the new plumbing. 

She straightens up, grinning.

“Is there anything you can’t fix?”

Stone rubs a hand over his head, he needs to shave soon. “Adaptability. Part of the...”

He stops himself from finishing, already knowing the look forming on her face. Any allusion to the fact that he was manufactured, with specification and alterations, was upsetting to her.

“I’m a man of many talents,” he amends, earning a soft look in return.

Picking up a towel, Voyanna reaches out and wipes it across his head.

“That is apparent.”

Standing, she holds out her hands, and when Stone only frowns, she sighs. 

“Give me your hands, I’m trying to help you up.”

Looking at his hands, he scowls. His gloves are off and he’s filthy. Rubbing his palms off on his blacks, trying to make the less grimy and sweaty, Stone finally reaches out. 

Voyanna’s hands are warm, he can feel little calluses pressing to skin, as she tugs. He doesn’t budge. 

“Kriff, you’re solid, aren’t you?” She pulls harder.

Stone grins up at her from his spot on the floor. “Saying I’m fat?”

She snorts. “I’m fat. You’ve not got a stitch of anything other than muscle on you.”

Pushing up on his legs, Stone stands and Voyanna nearly tumbles backward. He steadies her, holds her hand a fraction longer than necessary.

“You ever end up on Mirial you’ll freeze, you know that?” She pats her hips. “Need a layer to keep you warm. Not much use here on Coruscant, but I’m stuck with it, I’m afraid.”

Stone chuckles, traces her curves as she begins picking up the tools for him, putting them away in the bag. 

There are worse attributes to be stuck with.

-

Wincing, Stone sits back, braces his left chest with his hand.

He’d taken a blaster to the side during a morning chase. Not a direct hit, but a bolt had ricocheted off the durasteel of a building as they’d pursued, caught him at the joint of his armor and knocked him from the speeder bike.

Mostly his pride had been wounded.

“Technically, you qualify for the bacta tank,” the medic, Gauge, told him. “Get you back to peak performance quicker in one night.”

“No,” Stone had grunted. 

Not only was a night in the tank embarrassing and unnecessary, their accelerated healing meant his ribs would mend themselves twice as fast as any natborn with just a bacta patch, it meant a missed evening with Voyanna and the girls.

“I’m charting I warned you,” Gauge told him, rolling his eyes and tapping the datapad. “You command type are a stubborn breed.”

The injury would probably not bother him too much, if not for lifting the boards to patch the floor of Voyanna’s bedroom. He’s had to stop after every board, take deep breaths, support his chest. If he hadn’t thought it would draw suspicion, he’d have left the shell on, the rigid support eased the ache some.

“Are you okay?” Einnid asks, materializing behind him.

Stone fixes a smile on his face, twists around to look at her, hovering in the doorway. Ayddya must still be working on her school report, or she’d be in the room already, peppering him with questions. 

“Fine, kiddo.”

Her nose wrinkles up, disbelieving.

“What’s the matter with your side?”

He pats his ribs, tries not to make a face. “Just a bruise.”

Her eyes narrow, and Stone can see traces of Voyanna in the expression. She puts her hands on her hip. 

“You’re hurt, I’m tellin’ Tanti.”

She bolts out, shouts of ‘Tanti! Tanti’ echoing in her absence.

Getting back down, Stone makes a show of working, banging on the floor and pretending not to hear the frantic footsteps when they rush in the room.

“He’s hurt,” Einnid tells Voyanna, breathless from her run to find her. “His side.”

Turning, Stone forces a chuckle, nearly gasps as pain stabs in his ribs. 

“Just, uh, pulled a muscle,” he lies. “Pulled it lifting the boards.”

He pats the boards.

“You said it was a bruise,” Einnid reminds him.

Looking down, Stone scratches at his head. He had said that, hadn’t he? Damn.

Eyebrow arching, Voyanna studies him for a minute, then gives Einnid a smile.

“Will you be a big help? Will you go listen for the timer on the casserole while I talk to Stone?”

Nodding, Einnid hurries out, casting a worried look at Stone as she goes. Voyanna pushes the door shut as soon as she’s out.

“Alright, shirt off, let’s see what you’ve done.”

Stone tucks his hands into his armpits, shakes his head. 

“No need to, just a bruise.”

She crouches down in front of him, expression one of mock concentration. 

“I thought you said it was a pulled muscle?” Her eyebrows rise high on her forehead. “If you’re going to lie, best keep your story consistent.”

Scowling, Stone persists. “I’m fine.”

“Really?” She reaches out and pokes him, not hard, but enough to make him grimace in pain. “Shirt off or I’ll peel it off.”

“Not much of a threat.”

She snorts. “It is if I’m treating you like Einnid when I’m getting her ready for her bath.”

Too tired to argue, Stone finds the seam in his blacks and lifts it, grimacing as he tries to pull it over his head.

“Fierfek,” Voyanna hisses, sitting up on her knees, pulling the top over his head, inverting the sleeves and tossing it away. “What in the nine hells happened?”

Gingerly lifting his arm, Stone glances down. 

It’s improved since the morning. The edges are already yellowing and the burn has new growth.

Voyanna presses a hand to her mouth, the other reaching out, warm fingertips brushing the tender flesh before pulling back. 

“Come on, we need to get you to a doctor, or a medic-do you not have medics? Because I watched you lift my reinforced door, this didn’t happen lifting planks.”

She starts to get to her feet, but Stone catches her elbow, keeps her from standing.

“I don’t need a doctor or a medic.” He braces his side, takes a breath. “It’s only a ricochet injury. Already inspected.”

“Not very well,” she snaps. “Not even a bacta patch.”

Stone carefully reaches in his belt, pulls out the folded patch, holds it up sheepishly 

“They gave me some, I just did not place them.”

“This could kill you.”

He waves the concern away. “I’ve had worse.” 

When she pales, he opens the patch, begins fumbling to put it on as a distraction for her.

“We heal twice as fast,” he explains, the patch sticking to itself as he tries to slap it over the area. “We all try not to use resources unless necessary.”

There are always shortages of medical supplies, and no brother wants to use anything unnecessarily. Not even a bacta swatch is used on the smallest wound unless the threat of infection is great.

Reaching out, she takes the patch, unsticks it from itself, then smoothes it over the burn and bruising. Stone watches her fingers, faded looking diamond tattoos on her knuckles, inspect the edges, trace along it to make sure it covers.

“It may seem like a little thing,” she says, her voice so soft he barely catches it, “but you can’t just ignore these things.”

She sits back on her heels, puts her hands in her lap.

“My brother, Ayddya and Einnid’s dad, he died after a speeder wreck,” she tells him. “He helped pull people from the wreckage. Didn’t even get a once over from the medical droids.”

She picks at the hem of her skirt. 

“He had internal injuries, that’s what they told me. Exacerbated them pulling people out and crawling about, acting a hero. He died just after I got him to the sector emergency medical center, a few hours later.”

Taking his hand, she rubs her thumb over his knuckles, gives him a pained look.

“Promise me you’ll be more mindful your care. I-the girls and I’ve grown quite fond of you.”

The heat of her skin soaks through his gloves, burns through to his bones, and he knows he can’t deny her anything.

He squeezes her hand, smiles. “Promise, promise.”

-

“Do you know what happens in one week?” Ayddya asks, holding up one finger.

Stone slowly chews his mouthful, some green pasta with a reconstituted powdered sauce Voyanna apologized for. 

“It was cheap,” she’d admitted, cheeks flushing a darker green. 

Her finances, Stone had determined over the weeks, had been dire since her window had been wrecked. Customers seemed to think the bakery was closed. Ayddya, despite not understanding the situation, had mentioned changes, given him his confirmation.

“We’ve been eating the loaf for months,” she’d mentioned, when the dish made its weekly appearance. “I hate it. We didn’t use to have to eat it all the time.”

Protein loaf, the pink mash, and weak soups, were inexpensive and lasted several days, good for a budget. They were staples of the house.

“We did so,” Voyanna grumbled. 

Ayddya eyed the lump on her plate with a sigh. 

“Not as much.” She’d stabbed the lump. “We used to have cakes in the bakery too, but people don’t come since they can’t see the light-sign, so we don’t get them either.”

Stone had begun looking for ways to repair the window after that. Clearly life wasn’t fantastic before the Coruscant Police got reckless with her property, but it had been more comfortable.

Swallowing his pasta, Stone shrugged. “Uh, Centaxday?”

“No,” Ayddya giggled. “It’s real important. Try again.”

Scratching his head, Stone sifts through his memories for past conversations with her, certain she’s mentioned something. It’s hard, even with his eidetic memory. Ayddya chatters, a constant stream of information, both useful and useless, and weeding out which is which is near impossible some days. 

He’s had less tossed his way in a post-crisis report.

Frowning, he remembers Senator Organa has some gala next week, a fundraiser, but he doubts that’s something Ayddya knows about or even cares about. 

“It’s my birthday!” She finally shouts, beaming.

“Oh,” Stone responds, smiling at her excitement. “That’s...good.”

Birthdays, he remembers, are important to natborns. Most of them, anyways. He’d learned from Jek some weren’t excited at being reminded of their ages.

“All I said was he looked good for being that old,” he grumbled. “I mean, we won’t even live that long.”

Pointing that out, though, seemed to upset people too.

Shaking the memory off, Ayddya will hardly be upset by her age, he twists more pasta on his fork. “How old will you be?” 

“Eight,” she tells him, leaning on the table. “And next year, I’ll be old enough to go on the school trips to the Senate. If I see you when I’m there, will you wave to me?”

“If I see you.” He mops up some of the sauce. “The Senate is a big place, though. I may not.”

Nose wrinkling, she nods. “Okay.” She flops back in her chair. “You’ll come to my party, won’t you?”

“I’m here everyday,” he reminds her. Well, most days. He’d had to set up a schedule when he’d started nodding off during morning report. 

“Not to work. Just for the party. We’re having ice cream, and watching a holo, and-and Tanti said she’ll make cupcakes.” Her eyes widen. “Please, Stone, no work, just my party.”

He grins, starts to answer, but gets cut short by Voyanna reappearing, her front soaked with bath water. For a fleeting moment he wishes she weren’t so fond of dark colors, then scolds himself, pushes the thought away. 

“I think Einnid might be part Mon Calamari. Slippery little snot.” She jerks her thumb over her shoulder. “Your turn. Get to it.”

Ayddya scowls. “I’m talking with Stone. He’s coming to my birthday, not working that day.”

“Ah,” Voyanna nods, drops into the seat beside Stone, crosses her arms on the tabletop. “And has he agreed to come? Or are you badgering him again?”

Crossing her arms, Ayddya fights down a grin, puts her nose in the air. “He agreed.”

Chuckling, Stone nods, even though he hadn’t. Not yet anyways. 

“It’ll be fun,” he says, sipping his water. “Never been to a birthday. I have to bring something, right?”

That’s what he’s seen on the holos, anyways. 

“You’ve never-” Ayddya shakes the question off. She’s finally come to terms that he’s missed a lot of things and stopped questioning it quite so much. “Yes, you have to bring a present.”

Voyanna shakes her head. “You do not.”

“Yes he does. That’s the whole point of a birthday.”

Rolling her eyes, Voyanna presses her fingers to her temples. “Go take your bath.”

Huffing, Ayddya gets up, mutters goodnight, and goes to the fresher, slamming the door for good measure. 

“I don’t remember being quite so snotty at her age.” Voyanna's smile fades as she let’s her hands drop to the table, begins tracing the cracks in the plastoid. “I’m serious, you don’t have to bring a present. You’ve done more than enough for all of us.”

Shrugging, Stone takes the final bite of his pasta, taps his thumb on the fork, then sets it down, fighting the urge to take it to the sink and wash it.

Voyanna watches him fidget for a moment, biting back a smile, before reaching out and taking the plate to the sink. 

Getting up, he follows her, watches as she washes and dries the plate. He holds out his hand. “Can I at least put it away?”

She shakes her head. “No. Scoot.”

Bumping him with her hip, she pushes him out of the way, opens the cabinet and sets the plate inside.

Leaning against the counter, she sighs, dabs at her still damp top with the towel, then tosses it aside. Looking at him, she bites her lip.

“Can I ask you a question?”

Stone frowns, shrugs. She hardly needs permission, and she’s been dancing on the edge of something all evening. He’ll be happy to have her get whatever is bothering her out. It’s making him nervous. 

Picking at the chipped edge of the counter, she hesitates, then crosses her arms, stares at him. 

“I-I’ve been keeping up with the war, a bit more, since, well, since you’ve been around,” she starts, still looking uncertain. “And...alright, well, I know The Nova is just a scandal holo, but they’ve been right before, and it-it said…”

She closes her eyes. 

“There was an incident on Christophsis. With one of the clones.” She grits her teeth, looks at him. “They reported he was sabotaging the efforts, was going to leave the army. They’re saying he’s to be executed.”

Stone waits, unsure what to say. 

It’s true, though a bit dated, and classified. That blasted tabloid has been reporting on many classified, and therefore sensitive, incidents since the beginning of the war, though. Thire has actually been assigned to the task force investigating their sources, but they’re as slippery as a newborn Hutt.

“They’ve got a defense fund forming for him.”

Stone huffs. That traitor isn’t worthy of the effort.

“Waste of time. Clones don’t get trials.” 

Taking a deep breath, she gnaws at her lip. 

“Why not?”

He ignores the question, focuses his attention on her breathing, the way her breasts threaten to spill out with each breath. 

“Stone?” She takes a step closer. “Why not?”

Sighing, Stone shrugs, tries to make the answer palatable. 

“We aren’t-we don’t…” he huffs. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does!” She hisses. “They’re going to kill him!”

“He’s a traitor,” Stone snaps and she winces, steps back, bumping into the counter. “He got brothers killed, did they report that?”

Of course not. It made things simpler to make the bastard a martyr for their cause, some vague coalition claiming to want to give clones rights. Ignoring the fact that he’d sold out his own brothers. Ignoring the fact that he’d gotten a lot of men killed. There were better poster boys for their initiative. 

She doesn’t answer, just drops her eyes to the hem of her top and begins tugging at it, fussing with a loose thread. 

“I just-they were talking-they said you don’t get paid,” her voice is thick and Stone feels his stomach drop to his knees. 

“You don’t get paid and-but you’ve gotten the materials for the roof, and the floors-and I’m not an idiot, I know they’ve not got my claim processed…” She takes a ragged breath, rubs her palm across her cheek, smearing tears across it. “Stone, you’re not stealing are you? They’re not going to take you off for-no roof is worth that!”

Her eyes are a bit puffy, a little pink, bright against her green skin as she waits, expression teetering on panicked as she waits for him to speak. 

“Please,” she whispers, more tears welling in her eyes. “Please tell me you aren’t stealing. I’m in knots over it.”

Stone starts to reach out, to wipe one of the tears from her cheek, but stops. His hand drops to his side as he watches the tear roll, drip off her jaw, land on her breast and vanish into her top. 

It wasn’t the traitor she was worried about, not entirely anyway. He’d just given her worries more weight. 

“I’m not stealing,” he tells her, leveling his voice, gentle and low. 

She scowls. “Where’ve you been getting the stuff?” 

Rubbing at the muscles in his neck, his other hand at his hip, Stone shoots her a sheepish look. 

“Well, uh, you see…” he clears his throat. “The, uh, the Senate does refurbishments, frequently, so I just-I...raided the garbage a bit...It is all still perfectly good, I assure you. The droids are meticulous about the removal so it’s all sound.”

He winces, waits. He’s just admitted to repairing her home with trash, the fallout can’t be pretty. 

A minute passes, then another, and Stone heard a muffled noise and looks up. 

Voyanna has a hand to her mouth, palm pressed over it. It drops, and a watery smile greets him. 

“That’s not-they don’t count that as stealing?”

An uncertain smile ticks at the edges of Stone’s mouth. 

“They’ve got a bit of a backlog if they do.” He lets his hand drop from his neck. “We’ve been reappropriating things from their garbage since we got stationed here. No one has said a word.”

She lets out a relieved sigh. “Thank the force.”

Before Stone knows what’s happening, her arms are around his neck and her cheek is on his shoulder. Her body vibrates with a sob as fresh tears soak through his blacks. 

“I’ve been worried sick all day,” she tells him, her voice muffled against her shoulder, thick and watery beyond that. 

Stone stays still for a breath, unsure what to do. Hugging a brother is a lot different than hugging a girl. There’s extra parts, and he’s not quite certain if he’s supposed to hug her back or stand static. 

Carefully, he lets one hand come to a rest between her shoulders and the other settles low on her back. 

Closing his eyes, he lets his cheek rest against her hair, inhales the scent of bread and spice, tries to memorize her curves pressed to his body and the sound of her breathing, her warmth and breath through his blacks. 

“It alright,” he murmurs, finding a bit of nerve and stroking her hair. A bit coarse, different from his own. It’s longer than when they first met, the purple almost faded out at the ends.

“I’d made up my mind to contact this reporter, see if they could help defend you,” he hears her say, feels her voice through his chest. “I was so scared.”

Her arms tighten, hold him closer to her, and she takes a breath. 

She doesn’t speak again, just measures her breathing, slowing it down, punctuating it with a few hiccups before pulling back.

Stone feels her absence seeping through him, her warmth replaced by cool air and an ache in his chest.

Rubbing the tear tracks away with the backs of her hands, she smiles weakly.

“Sorry for falling apart on you.”

“Eh, anytime.”

Reaching out, she takes his hand, squeezes it in her warm fingers. 

“You really are a better man than most.”

Shrugging at that, he reaches out and brushes some hair stuck to her cheek with tears away.

He doesn’t think he is, but he hope he can be.


	5. As Time Goes By

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Star Wars, I only play with the characters.

Stone glares at his datapad, an advertisement for toys pulled up. 

He’s been researching gifts since the party announcement, but hasn’t had much in the way of luck with finding something for Ayddya. Everything takes credits, but as he doesn’t get paid, purchasing a present is approaching impossible.

“You don’t have to get her anything,” Voyanna assured him, just the night before. 

He wants to though. Birthdays require a gift, and he’d like to do the ceremony properly. 

His first inclination had been to get assistance from Sabé and Saché, but they were both still off on assignment. Then he’d considered asking Senator Chuchi, but worry over her accidentally telling Fox about his extracurricular activities kept him from it. That left the HoloNet.

Tapping the screen, he pulls up another item, just as inaccessible as the last. 

“Kriff.”

He reaches the end of the breezeway, turns on his heels, starts to march back the other direction, bucket in the datapad, only to run into something. Someone. The datapad falls, clattering on the decorative stone underfoot. 

Should’ve had the HUD warnings active, he thinks irritably.

Dropping down, Stone grabs for the pad, but is too late. The someone he’d run into gets to it first. 

Senator Amidala stands, datapad in hand, smiling softly at him. 

“A little distracted, Commander Stone?”

He holds his hand out, anxious to get the pad before she sees he’s looking up youngling toys.

“No-uh, just...on break.” He makes a face behind his visor. Clones don’t get breaks, and Senator Amidala is very aware of that. Getting mandatory breaks built into their days has been among her many bills created on clones rights. 

She gives him a narrow look, let’s him know she reads through his poorly thought out lie. 

“Getting some air?”

Her eyebrows rise. 

“Watching a holo?”

She snorts. “Let’s try the truth, shall we?”

Hesitating, Stone shakes his head. “It’s a bit...personal, ma’am.”

It’s a credit to her dedication to their rights that she simply nods, doesn’t prod. Respecting their privacy is a matter of integrity to her. 

She holds out the datapad to him. “Well, if there’s any way I can assist you, please, feel free to let me know. Saché and Sabé will be disappointed in me if I don’t keep the Guard well cared for.”

Stone smiles slightly behind his bucket. “Of course, ma’am.”

Nodding, she starts to continue past him, probably taking the shortcut to the hidden ladies fresher behind the gardens. Stone looks around. Her personal guards are nowhere to be seen. If Stone were to guess, she’s given them the slip for a moment of privacy. 

He takes a breath, considers her for a moment. 

Relationships, even just friendships, aren’t expressly forbidden for clones, but they’re certainly not encouraged. The less attached they are to the civilians the easier it is keeping things clean. No messy fall out from break-ups or fights, deaths, like with natborns. 

When they’d started allowing limited leave on Coruscant, they’d encouraged visits to bars and brothels to relieve stress and find short term companionship. They’d hoped it would be enough to quell the urges cropping up around the GAR, and for many, it had. So it seems, anyways. 

Stone hasn’t heard anything about long term attachments, though whether that’s because there aren’t any or because his notoriously gossipy brothers are keeping their lips sealed for once. 

Either way, Senator Amidala isn’t one to gossip. Even her former aides keep quiet when the occasion calls for it. She’s as safe a bet as any for helping with his not-quite illicit activities. 

“Senator?” 

Steps freezing, Senator Amidala turns, one eyebrow arched. 

Taking a few steps toward her, Stone chews his lip. “There is something. If you could keep it between us, that is?”

Smiling, she nods. “Of course, Commander. How can I help you?”

Datapad gripped in his hands, Stone looks down at the advertisement. 

“I, uh, I’ve got a birthday party to attend,” he begins awkwardly, drumming his fingers on the back of the pad for a beat before continuing, “and I don’t know-I need a gift, but I don’t...we’ll, you know.”

Her smile softens. “The credits.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he feels his face burn, “the credits.”

Credits he doesn’t have. 

Reaching out, she takes the pad, frowns as she sees the sparkly pink babydoll he’d been looking at. 

“Oh,” she murmurs, hand covering her mouth. “I thought-a youngling’s birthday?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She hands the datapad back, lips twitching. “If I may ask, how do you know a youngling?”

Stone begins wracking his brain for a suitable explanation, every good lie evaporating from his mind. The silence is apparently noticeable. 

“I’m guessing her mother is a friend?” She gently offers.

Clearing his throat, Stone nods. “Yes, ma’am. She’s...her aunt, actually, she’s a friend.”

He chews his lower lip, waits, not sure she’ll have a fix for his problem.

“Well,” she begins, “what’s she like?”

Attaching the datapad to his belt, his hand settles at his neck, begins rubbing at the ever present knot.

“She-uh, she’s beautiful, a little scary, but, to be fair, females are all a bit terrifying. She’s kind-sends me with breakfast and-”

“Commander,” Senator Amidala cuts him off with a gentle hand on his arm. “I meant the youngling.”

Face burning, Stone looks away, winces. “Oh.”

Hands setting at his waist, he takes a breath. 

“She...well, she’s smart. Very smart.” He grins, remembering Ayddya proudly showing her school report to him just the day before. “She talks a lot. Asks a lot of questions. I can’t even keep track of how many questions she’s asked.”

Senator Amidala smiles at that. “What does she ask the most questions about?”

Stone runs through the hundreds of questions, trying to find a repeating pattern. It’s a bit overwhelming.

“She likes hearing about the senate,” he finally says. “She’s excited that next year she’ll get to come have a tour with her grade.”

“That’s perfect,” she tells him. “She’s interested in the Senate. That’s an easy gift.”

Tilting his head, Stone stares. “How’s that, ma’am?”

If she’s trying to suggest he swipe something from the Senate for Ayddya, he doesn’t think much of her plan. He’s already scared Voyanna with just the impression of wrongdoing. If he actually steals, she may die. 

“A gift doesn’t have to be something tangible. You can get her a private tour of the Senate.”

Stone feels a step behind. “I don’t follow.”

Senator Amidala presses a hand to her chest. “I’m offering to give her a tour, Commander.”

Staring, Stone’s lips quirk up. “You’d do that?”

She nods, then holds up a finger. “But only if you get her aunt’s permission.”

“Ma’am, you’re very busy.” She doesn’t have time to essentially play teacher to a youngling. 

Patting his arm, she smiles. “I’m never too busy to help a friend.”

-

“Senator Amidala?” Voyanna repeats, for the third time, still disbelieving. 

“Ye-”

“From Naboo?”

“Yes,” Stone finally confirms, again. “I ran into her and she offered...for it to be my gift for Ayddya. She wanted your permission though.”

He watches her process what he’s said, dishrag still in her hand, limp at her side and forgotten. She opens her mouth, then closes it, presses her freehand to her forehead. 

“Well, I can’t very well say no, can I?” She says, not necessarily to him, but simply aloud. Then she looks at him, a smile blooming on her face. “She’s going to be so excited!”

She begins rambling, more to herself than to him, reciting all the things she’ll need to do, mend the fraying ends of Ayddya’s one good dress, scrub the scuff marks from her shoes, trim her hair…

Grabbing Stone’s hands, she squeezes them.

“You know, you’re aiming a bit high for a first gift,” she tells him softly. “I’m not sure you’ll be able to top it next year.”

Stone’s insides flip at the implication. Next year. She’s already got him at the next birthday, maybe even years in the future. 

He very much hopes he doesn’t disappoint her. 

-

“This is yours Stone,” Ayddya tells him, handing him a lopsided cupcake, green icing sliding half off. “I decorated it myself.”

He inspects it critically, nods. “Excellent job.”

“I put the sprinkles on,” Einnid tells him, crawling onto his lap, relaxing against his chest as she begins to unwrap her own cupcake. 

Jiggling his leg, she nearly drops her treat, grips it in her hand and tilts her head up to glare at him for a moment before giggling, shoving yellow frosting at his mouth. 

“Thanks,” he tells her, licking around his mouth as she laughs, begins munching on the cake crushed in her hands. 

“So I’m really going to go with you to work tomorrow?” Ayddya asks again, Stone lost count how many times she’s asked. “I get to meet Senator Amidala?”

He nods again. 

When Voyanna had told her, just after they’d watched the holomovie Ayddya picked, she’d squealed so loudly Stone had been certain he’d never hear again.

“I think she likes it,” Voyanna told him, laughing as Ayddya did a little dance.

“Will you pick me up?” Ayddya asks, licking the icing from her own cupcake. “Will you bring me home?”

Chuckling, Stone glances at Voyanna before answering. 

“Picking up and dropping off.”

“And you’ll be on your best behavior the entire time,” Voyanna tells her. 

Ayddya waves her hand, dismissing the warning. 

They eat the cupcakes for a few minutes with only the sounds of the street floating in, an alarm going off and someone yelling in an alien tongue, before Einnid sets her crumpled cupcake liner on the table, examines her filthy hands.

“Bit of a mess aren’t you?” Stone says to her, lifting her up and carrying her to the sink and holding her up so she can wash the sticky icing and crushed cake away. 

“Thank you,” she tells him as he deposits her on her feet, let’s her scurry ahead of him back to the table. 

“Whose birthday is next?” Ayddya asks. “We need a big cake.”

Voyanna pulls another piece of her cupcake off, points to Ayddya’s plate. “You haven’t even finished the very small cake in front of you.”

Picking at her now icingless cupcake, Ayddya puts her tongue out and grins. 

Rolling her eyes, Voyanna pops her bit of cake in her mouth. 

“Einnid’s was before you fell through the roof,” Ayddya tells Stone, holding up a finger. “And Tanti’s is after the equinox.” 

She thinks for a moment, staring at Stone, and he knows what’s coming. 

“Stone, when’s your birthday?”

Chewing slowly, Stone let’s the question hang in the air for a moment, swallows and licks the icing from the corners of his mouth before coming to an answer. 

“Don’t have one.”

Ayddya makes an exasperated noise. “You’ve got to! Everyone has a birthday!”

He shrugs. “I don’t. You have to be born to have a birthday.”

She scowls, sits up on her knees and leans on the table, little palms flat on the cracked plastoid. “How can you be here if you weren’t born?”

“Dos doesn’t have a birthday,” Einnid tells her, settling back on Stone’s lap. 

“Dos is Mon Calamari, they hatch, they’ve got hatching day. Stone’s human, they don’t hatch,” Ayddya explains irritably.

“Well,” Stone cuts in, shifts Einnid on his lap,”she’s not too far off.”

When Voyanna looks at him, her expression curious but wary, he forces a smile.

“We, clones, don’t hatch,” he tells her. “But we do get decanted.”

“What’s that mean?” Ayddya asks, eyes wide. Voyanna looks much less excited to learn where little clones come from. 

Stone holds on his smile even as the uneasy feeling creeps into his stomach. 

“They-well they grow us in batches, in growth jars, and when we’re ready, they remove us, decant us, together,” he explains. “I guess we could have a decanting day, if we knew what day that was.”

Which they don’t. 

“Wizard,” Ayddya says, grinning in awe. “That’s loads better than how they get regular babies out.”

Her eyes widen. 

“You know how regular babies get out, right? It’s not pretty.” Her nose wrinkles in distaste. “I like your way better.”

Stone shrugs. If he were female, he’d prefer decanting too.

“How do they know you’re ready?” Voyanna, not Ayddya, asks, her face settled in a look that tells him she’s working out things he’d rather she not. 

He shakes off the worry. 

“Put a fork in us.”

A beat passes, then Voyanna snorts, presses her palms over her eyes. 

“Nu-uh,” Einnid tells him, giggling as he pokes her in the side.

“It’s true. I’ve got prong marks,” he points to his hip. “Right there.”

Voyanna rolls her eyes as she stands. “And on that note, bed, both of you. Ayddya has a big day tomorrow and I won’t have her growling like a Wookie because she didn’t sleep.”

Without even a hint of sulking, Ayddya hurries to her room, shouting a goodnight over her shoulder as she vanishes, Einnid trailing after her. 

Voyanna sighs, gathers their plates and carries them to the sink as Stone gets up and follows her, picks up the towel to dry. 

She’s silent for a moment, gets out a new rag and runs it under the tap before turning to Stone.

Reaching up, she dabs the corner of his mouth, pulls it away and shows him green icing.

Rubbing his hand over his mouth, he grimaces. “Can’t blame that on Einnid, can I?”

She gives him a scrutinizing look, then turns off the water, tosses tha rag and puts her hands on her hips.

“Did you not want to answer because of the girls, or did you just not want to answer?”

He frowns, let’s his gaze drift left, to the half filled sink. He’d hoped she’d forget.

“Not sure,” he rubs the back of his head. 

Truthfully, his aging is the one aspect of his genetic modifications he’d rather not discuss with anyone. Least of all her. He doesn’t want to see her reaction, whether pity or horror. He doesn’t want her to look at him differently.

“How do they know?” She asks again.

Sighing, he keeps his eyes on the sink.

“Measurements. Physical and neurological. Make sure we’re growing at the accelerated rate and are capable of basic self care.”

She’s quiet for a minute, Stone can almost hear her thinking, and he feels his heart bruising the inside of his chest.

Her warm fingers reach up, gently turn his face back to her.

“How old are you?”

Stone hesitates.

“Biologically, about twenty, twenty-two.”

Her nose wrinkles. “And not-biologically?”

Stepping back, Stone makes a face. “I age twice as fast as a baseline human.”

He can see her breathing speed up, watches as she presses a hand to her forehead. 

“You’re ten?” She stares at him, half looking like she wants him to deny it. “Ten?”

“Well, I’ll be eleven on my decanting day.”

She doesn’t so much as huff at the poor attempt at joking.

Her hand slips from her forehead to her mouth as she stares, then to her chest, presses to her heart.

“I’m dreadful,” she finally says. “Oh force, I’m just appalling.”

“You aren’t.”

“Believe me, I am,” she assures him, closing her eyes. “Oh, if you knew.”

Stone starts to ask her what she means, but doesn’t get the chance. 

“Ten,” she says, her voice a panicked whisper. “You're a child!” 

“No,” he cuts in. “I’m a subspecies of human. I am an adult for my type.”

She opens her mouth to say something, but he stops her. 

“Ugnaughts live two hundred years or more, but they do not treat other species like children just because they’re the same chronological age as their younglings.”

He doesn’t mention that, just like a baseline human lifespan seems painfully short to long lived species, his will be over in a blink of an eye. Blaster or biology will get him sooner rather than later, but she can work that out on her own, most do.

Hand still to her heart, she goes to the table, sits in her seat. She slumps forward, threads her fingers in her hair, props her elbows.

Slowly, Stone crosses to her, drops into the seat beside her.

Silently, she stares at the cracked plastoid, her brows pulled together in thought. 

“I-I understand-that makes sense,” she finally says, her expression pinched. “It’s just-kriff, Stone! You’re two years older than Ayddya!”

Tracing a crack on the table top, Stone nods. “Sorry.”

She snorts, let’s her hands drop as she looks at him, smiles softly. Reaching out, she takes his hand, rubs her thumb over his knuckles. 

“It’s nothing for you to be sorry for,” she tells him, voice soft again. She chuckles “When I was ten I was grounded for wandering too far into the dunes. You’re flying all over Coruscant.”

Stone turns his hand over, squeezes. “Well, I’m an early bloomer.”

Her eyes roll then settle on their hands. She sighs. 

“I’m not sure if your Ugnaught explanation makes sense because it makes sense, or if I just want it to.” Her gaze drifts. “I think I may just be desperate not to be a-for you to be a man still.”

“I am.” He jerks his head in the direction of the girls’ room. “I do not look like I belong with the younglings, do I?”

Her lips pucker. “Well, no.”

“Physically, I’m an adult. Mentally, adult.” He grins. “Emotionally, it’s debatable.”

She snorts, covers her mouth, eyes bright. Her hand slips down and she smiles. 

“To be fair, I’ve had a rather mundane life, and I’m emotionally debatable as well.”

Smile fading a fraction, she stares at him for a moment, and Stone tries not to fidget. 

He wonders, a bit impatiently, if she realizes he’s omitted another area he’s very adult in. Or at least in a very adolescent stage. 

Bringing up the fact that he’s sexually an adult, with all the urges and discomfort that entails, seems a bit too on the nose. 

Glancing over, at the chrono, he sighs. 

“I need to get going.” It’s later than he normally leaves. 

Voyanna nods, gets up and follows him out, softly tells him goodnight and to be safe before pulling the door closed once he’s in the speeder. Stone hopes the disappointment he catches in her eyes as she waves goodbye is for him leaving, and not because she’s still upset.

-

Voyanna is still in her nightclothes when he arrives, in the hazy morning hours of the next day. 

Her hair is mussed, eyes dewy, and when she stretches to yawn, as she waits by the door as Ayddya checks her appearance one final time before leaving, her ratty night shirt rides up at her waist. Stone’s stomach rolls and he tries to busy himself with adjusting his belt. If he looks at her he’ll never look away. 

“I’m ready!” Ayddya announces, bounding down the steps, grabbing Stone’s hand and tugging him along. “Let’s go!”

“Not so fast, you little womprat,” Voyanna tells her, catching her by the collar. She kneels down by her, takes her by the shoulder. “You’re going to listen to Stone, right?”

“Yes,” Ayddya agrees, impatiently wiggling. 

“And the Senator?”

“Yes.”

“You’re going to behave?”

“Yes!” She bites her lip. “Please, can we go?”

Sighing, Voyanna pulls her into a hug, kisses her cheek. “Please be good.”

Hugging her back, Ayddya gives her a quick kiss then races to the speeder. “Come on, Stone!”

Stone chuckles, turns back to Voyanna. 

“Do I get a kiss?”

She gives him a small look, as though she isn’t quite sure what to make of him, then snorts. 

“Not before I brush my teeth you don’t.”

Grinning, the knot in his middle eases. They’re okay if she’s willing to joke. 

“If she gets to be too much, you’ve got permission to toss her in the brig,” She tells him, lips twitching. “Or wherever you exile unruly troopers.”

He nods gravely. “I’ll give her latrine duty.”

She snorts. “When you do, be sure to get a holo of it for me. I could use the laugh.”

“Stone! Please! Tanti, stop holding him up!”

Patting his arm, Voyanna gives him a sympathetic smile. 

“Have a good day.”

-

Ayddya fires questions at him the entire ride to the Senate. What she’ll see, who she’ll see, what she’ll do. 

“It’s up to Senator Amidala,” he explains. “She’s giving you the tour.”

“You won’t be with us?” 

He shakes his head, sees the anxious look on her face. 

“No, but I’ll just be a comm away, alright? If you need me.”

She nods, twists her skirt in her hands. 

“And my brothers will be around. You’ll be safe.”

“But I can’t talk to them?”

He shakes his head. Stone made sure she understood this was a bit of an undercover mission. If anyone asked, she’d won the trip as a prize, which is only half a lie. A birthday gift is a kind of prize for surviving one year to the next. 

“Otherwise all the other younglings will want special treatment. Bit overwhelming, yeah?”

She’d nodded. “I won’t say anything.”

Her little fingers had mimicked zipping her lips. 

Stone takes her hand and leads her up back paths, a service elevator to a stairwell, down a droid use only hall, finally popping out in the corridor where the Naboo offices are. 

Staying to the edges, they avoid the cleaning droid and a pair of Alderaanian aides before making it to Senator Amidala’s office. He knocks on the door. 

One of her handmaidens cracks the door open, smiles. 

“Commander Stone?”

He nods. “Yes, ma’am.” He holds Ayddya’s hand up. “I’ve got the Senator’s guest for the day.”

“Of course.” She opens the door. 

Ayddya lags behind him a step as they enter. She keeps a tight grip on his hand as she slows, eyes big as she twists to see every inch of the office. 

“Commander Stone, right on time,” Senator Amidala says, coming from behind her desk. Her head tilts a bit and she bites her lip as she smiles 

Ayddya has ducked behind him, suddenly struck shy, gripping his belt like a lifeline. 

“This must be Ayddya,” the Senator says, leaning down a bit, holding out her hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Fingers still locked on Stone’s belt, Ayddya edges out, looks first at Senator Amidala, then to Stone before nodding. 

Reaching back, Stone places a hand on her head, nudges her forward, watches as she takes a breath, takes the Senator’s hand. “Nice to meet you too.”

Like a switch, chattery Ayddya is back. 

“Were you really a Queen? Does that make you royalty still? Did you have a crown?”

The Senator laughs. 

“Why don’t we talk about that over breakfast?” She points to her handmaiden. “Can you go wait with Dormé for a moment, while I give Commander Stone the itinerary for the day?”

Ayddya hesitates for a breath, then flings her arms around Stone’s middle, squeezes him. 

“See you in a bit.”

Then she runs off to the desk, where the handmaiden begins showing her something. 

“I’ve got the itinerary,” he informs her, though he doesn’t need it. He’d memorized it the day before. 

“I’d expect nothing less.” She smiles, a bit misty. “I’m going to give you my private comm for the day. It’ll be less likely to be busy than the Senate issued one.”

She gently taps the numbers into the link on his forearm. 

“Even if you just want to check on her, comm me.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

Patting his arm, she turns, goes back to the desk and begins telling Ayddya about the day ahead. 

Quietly, Stone backs out, though he stops when his HUD alerts him to Ayddya waving. 

Uncertainly, he waves back. 

“Be a good girl.”

She nods. “I always am.”

Stone chuckles. Yeah, that’s why Voyanna is always getting called to the school. 

He leaves, shuts the door and hopes the Senator has an abundance of patience. She’ll undoubtedly need it. 

-

“And I met Senator Organa,” Ayddya tells him, a little after midday, when Stone arrives to collect her and take her home. 

He’d had to barter for hours in the middle of the night to get enough free time to come gather her up, return her home, but the light in her eyes is worth the cost. 

“He was impressed I know all the outer rim planets alphabetically.”

“Who wouldn’t be?”

Senator Amidala beams, pats her head. 

“She was quite impressive.”

Ayddya sighs. “I didn’t get to hear any debates though. Senator Amidala said it’d be boring.”

Stone nods. He agrees with that. Boring is a pretty fair assessment of most senate debates in his opinion. 

He’d specifically asked the Senator not to let Ayddya in on any debates or committee meetings. He didn’t want her inadvertently hearing anything about the ongoing arguments over clone rights. It doesn’t always come up, but it does often enough to make him wary. He doesn’t want her upset by anything she may hear. 

“Let’s get going,” he finally tells her. 

Her lower lip puckers. “My legs are tired. Will you carry me?”

He sees Senator Amidala in the corner of his HUD, biting back a laugh and he hesitates. Ayddya’s eyes widen. 

“You can’t tell your aunt,” he warns her. 

She nods in agreement. 

He sighs. “Go use the fresher before we go.”

Once she’s rushed off, Senator Amidala laughs softly. 

“Are you forbidden from carrying her?”

Stone shrugs. “Eh, Voy-she told her she’s too big to get carried around. Told me I was spoiling her.”

Which may very well be true, but as he’d never been spoiled himself, he doesn’t see any harm in it. 

Ayddya comes running back, hands still damp, holds her arms out. 

Scooping her up, he sets her on his hip, straightens her skirt on her legs. 

“Thank you for the tour,” she tells Senator Amidala as she rests her head on Stone's shoulder. 

“You’re very welcome.”

She waves goodbye as the handmaiden calls for her, leaving Stone to sneak back out. 

He takes the same route, back through the secret bowels of the Senate, to the waiting speeder. 

“On your bottom,” he warns her as she turns in the seat to look out the back window as they leave. “And put the belt on.”

With a dramatic sigh, she plops on her bottom and secures her restraint. 

“I wish I could spend the rest of the day with you.”

He chuckles. “Yeah? It’s gonna be a bit of a snooze.”

He has to help Fox with some shinies fresh from Kamino and then there’s a pile of flimsy work he’d earned in a sabacc game loss. 

“It’ll be more fun with Voy.”

She considers something, then smiles. “Stone, do you like Tanti?”

Freezing, Stone watches her in the corner of his HUD. She’s waiting for his answer expectantly. 

“Uh, I-well…” he focuses on the traffic, easing around it to the dedicated lane. “Of course. I like you too.”

She shakes her head. “No. You like her for kissing and stuff.”

Stone nearly chokes. 

“You always stare at her, like this,” she makes a face that Stone dearly hopes he’s never made himself. “Just like on ‘Corellian General’.”

“That’s a soap,” he tells her, hoping she’ll move on. “It’s fictitious.”

“They’re acting like real life.”

“That-,” Stone shakes his head, “no.”

“Doesn’t matter,” she tells him. “You like her, you do. “

She crosses her legs in the seat and bites her lip. 

“Stone, will you marry Tanti?”

Stone’s foot slips on the accelerator. “What?”

“Well, Tanti-she’s like our mum, since Einnid’s and mine went away and we don’t remember her. And we don’t remember our dad, so if you marry Tanti, you’ll be like our dad.” She picks at her dress. “You’d be a really good one. And then you wouldn’t have to leave at night, and we could watch movies and read together.”

She looks at him, her eyes wide. 

“I know Tanti’s room is messy, but we could clean it up so you’d have space. And it’s okay if you move ‘round when you sleep because she’s still, and she’ll let you snuggle up on her if you don’t feel well.”

“I-I don’t think your aunt-”

“Don’t worry. She wouldn’t let you keep coming around if she didn’t. She kicked Mr. Tragger out the bakery when he looked down her shirt once, and you’ve looked down it loads of times. She likes you.”

Stone feels his face burn. He hadn’t thought he’d been that obvious. 

He opens his mouth to tell her it’s not allowed. He’s a clone and clones don’t get married. One look at the hopeful expression on her face, though, kills the brutal truth. It’s not her fault everything is such a mess.

“Will you think about it?” She finally asks, after a stretch of quiet he’s shocked she had the patience for. “Please?”

He sets the speeder down in the alley, locks the break and pops the seals on his bucket, takes it off and sets it aside. He forces a smile for her. 

“I’ll consider it.”

She beams, throws off her safety restraint and flings herself across the seat at him.

“Good,” she whispers, presses a kiss to his cheek before falling back in her seat and kicking the door open. “Tanti!”

“Had fun, did you?” Voyanna asks as Ayddya tumbles out into her. 

“I did.” She holds up a finger, ticking off things she saw. “I saw the atrium, and the rotunda, and Senator Amidala’s office and pod, conference room six-oh-seven six, and the cafeteria.”

Voyanna grins. 

“Sounds exciting.” She tugs Ayddya’s ponytail. “Well, get inside, you’re helping me bake puffers. I’ve got an order and Stone has to get back to work.”

Sighing, Ayddya turns and gives Stone a smile, waves.

“Thank you for the tour, Stone.”

She races off as Voyanna shuts the door, leans down and crosses her arms on the windowsill, smiles in at him. He dearly wishes he still had the bucket on. It’s impossible to not at least glance at her cleavage at this angle. 

“She behaved?”

Stone shrugs. “It’s alright, she’s a minor so her records will be sealed.”

Her eyes flick upward. “Small mercies.”

She drums her fingers on her arms, takes a long breath.

“You’re still coming tonight, aren’t you?” Her eyebrows knit together in worry. “I mean, bringing her home didn’t wreck your schedule, did it?”

It had, but it was worth it.

“No trouble at all,” he assures her. “And I will be here. Right on time.”

Her expression eases into relief. 

“Good.” She lets out a breath. “Good. I’ll save you a puffer then.”

A smile ticks up on her lips. 

“See you tonight.”

Stone watches her go, waits until she’s turned on the top step and waved one last time before vanishing inside, then shoves on his bucket. He smiles as his HUD flashes with updates, Thire asking him why in the nine hells he traded the middle of his day for three hours in the middle of the night, a warning about a tram derailment.

He blinks them away. 

He’ll see her tonight, and for the moment, that’s all he cares about.


	6. We’ll always have the clinic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Star Wars, I only play with the characters.
> 
> AN: Probably just one chapter to go. I have an extra chapter, set in the future, but it feels too distant for this story. May get tweaked some day, but for now I think just one more chapter.

When Stone arrives at the bakery Voyanna shoots him a wane smile. 

“Fair warning,” she begins, wiping her palms on her apron, smearing some pink colored powder down her front, “the girls are a bit puny. They’ve both caught something at school.”

Stone stops, stares at her for a moment as he processes what she’s said. “Caught something?” 

His expression must amuse her, because her smile widens. 

“They’re a bit ill. That’s all. A little cough, a small fever, tired, but they’re fine.” She rolls her eyes. “Though I’m sure the dramatics will flare up when they see you’ve arrived.”

Arching an eyebrow, Stone frowns. “Why’s that?”

Voyanna studies him for a moment, crosses her arms, then shakes her head. 

“They’re a little in love with you, in case you missed it, which you clearly have. They’ll try to drag you into their nonsense to slow you down a bit, I imagine.” 

They hardly need dramatics or nonsense to slow him down. Their constantly being underfoot has been a welcome interruption more times than Stone can count. He doesn’t mind in the least.

Being done means his visits will end. No more of the girls and no more of Voyanna. He’s not too eager to be done with his project.

Face warming, Stone rubs at the back of his head. “Oh.”

He wishes she’d mentioned herself being a little in love with him as well...

“Yeah,” she sighs, dusting her hands off. She looks up, grins and jerks her head toward the upstairs. “So don’t disappoint them.”

His hand stops massaging his neck and he lets a small smile twitch up on his face as he drags his eyes from her feet to her face. 

“Are you encouraging me to let them delay your repairs?”

Snorting, she puts her hands to her hips. “Have you got something better to do? Fight a war on stupidity or some such?”

Stone chuckles. “No, I don’t suppose I do. The stupid will wait.”

And multiply. Stone has no doubts about that. 

Her smile fades a bit and she bites her lip. 

“Joking aside...if they are a bother, or you’re put out with coming-”

“They’re not. I’m not,” he assures her, fighting the urge to tell her there’s no place he’d rather be. 

His purpose was programmed into him, but he didn’t appreciate it until he’d spent time with her and the girls. Sitting down for a meal and hearing about the mundane activities of civilian life, learning about younglings, interacting with the people he’d been bred to protect, has made him understand just what he’s doing. 

Their lives may be small, but they’re important. Especially to him.

He hopes that when the repairs are done he’s still welcome in their home.

Voyanna’s expression softens and she nods. “Good.”

She watches him for a moment, then gives him a stern look. 

“As you’re uninitiated in youngling illnesses, let me warn you, they’re as good at giving sicknesses as getting them. I advise not getting in their faces and giving your hands a good scrub.”

Taking a breath, Stone smiles and heads for the stairs.

The living area is darkened, only the blue glow of the holoprojector lighting the space in front of the couch. 

Quietly, Stone sets his bag down and creeps behind them, peeks over at them. 

Ayddya is sprawled out, arms over her head, eyes closed and breathing through her mouth. Her cheeks are a bit flushed.

Einnid’s hair is sweaty, plastered to her head, but she’s awake. Her eyes are shiny and bright when she spots Stone, smiles weakly as she sets up. 

“Do you have to work today?” She asks, making a strange wheezing noise with each breath. 

Stone nods. “Probably best if I do. I’ll never finish if I don’t.”

She coughs, a loud rattle in her little chest that pains Stone to hear, then shrugs.

“It’s okay if you don’t finish.”

Struggling a little, though Stone thinks she may be putting on a bit of a show, she stands, reaches out for him. 

“Hold me please.”

Remembering Voyanna’s warning, Stone hesitates. Then her lower lip juts and quivers. He wasn’t trained to fight these battles. 

“Just for a minute,” he warns her.

Lifting her up, he lets her settle against his chest, her over warm body radiating heat through his blacks as he rests his cheek against her sweaty hair. She coughs again, noisy and painful, then relaxes, though her breathing is still loud and vibrates through Stone’s body.

He goes to the other side of the couch and carefully sets down, the cushions sagging low under his weight and the frame creaking ominously. 

Ayddya wakes for a moment and squints at him, coughs as she shifts around, then curls into his side.

“We’re watching ‘Corellian General’,” she tells him, her voice raspy.

He nods, glances at the static filled holoprojector. They must’ve fallen asleep watching it. 

“Good episode?” 

She nods, eyes closed as she presses closer to him. 

Adjusting Einnid, he frees an arm up and wraps it around Ayddya, relaxes into the battered cushion. A few minutes of rest won’t hurt.

-

“Stone?”

Brain foggy, Stone turns his head to the sound of the voice. It’s soft, gentle, feminine, very much not a brother’s.

“Hmm?” 

“Stone, you need to wake up. It’s late.”

Blinking, his vision blurred, he nearly panics at the unfamiliar ceiling overhead. Then he feels the warm weight on his chest shift and remembers where he is. 

Shifting, he looks around and finds Voyanna sitting beside him, propped by her elbow on the back of the couch. She gives him a half smile, waves her free hand at the girls. 

“I see you heeded my advice to the letter.”

Stone grimaces. “Sorry.”

Laughing softly, she reaches out and presses her palm to his cheek and Stone feels his heart stop. Then her thumb sweeps the corner of his mouth, smears something warm and wet away. 

Stone nearly groans. Drool.

“I knew there had to be a flaw in you somewhere,” she chuckles, wiping her hand on the hem of her skirt. 

He feels his cheeks burn. “Because I’m a messy sleeper?”

“Hm, no.” She gestures to the girls, still burrowed into his side and nuzzled into his chest. “You’re a pushover.”

Grimacing, he pats Einnid’s back as she starts to cough again.

Opening his mouth, he struggles for a defense, but comes up short and simply sighs. 

“Tugged at your heartstrings, did she?” 

“She made a face.” 

Rolling her eyes, Voyanna snorts. “Terrifying soldier, you are.”

Turning, she sifts through the debris on the coffee table-juice boxes, wrappers, and crumbs-finds a bottle and struggles with the cap for a moment before it clicks open.

“Time for their medicine.” She makes a face. “Time to wake the Wookiees.”

She settles beside Ayddya, tugs her up and shakes her gently.

“Wake up, Ayd, time for your medicine.”

Ayddya makes a face, pushes the syringe Voyanna has filled away a couple of times, before opening an eye and huffing. She takes the syringe and squirts it in her own mouth before nestling back against Stone. 

Einnid is easier, only takes a soft prompt from Stone.

“Come on, be a good girl, take your medicine.”

Obediently, she sits up, lets Voyanna give her a syringe full, then collapses back against him. 

“Let me help you,” Voyanna says, reaching out and grunting as she lifts Einnid and cradles her in her arms. “Otherwise you’ll be trapped as a human pillow all night.”

Shifting Ayddya away, he stands, feeling cold without their fevered warmth seeping through his blacks. 

He brushes a hand over Einnid’s damp hair, sighs. 

“I’ll get mo-some work done tomorrow,” he assures her.

Her nose wrinkles as she grins. “No, you won’t.”

-

Voyanna isn’t wrong.

The next day both girls are still fevered and coughing, still camped on the couch, still make sad faces at him until he relents and settles in between them. 

“Is it normal for them to still be sick?” Stone asks Voyanna, as he paces with Einnid, patting her back softly as she’s racked by another coughing fit on the third day. Ayddya is a bit less pitiful, but still coughs too frequently for Stone’s comfort. 

“Sometimes,” she answers. Her brow wrinkles in concern. “There’s a virus going round. I read it lasts a week. Probably what they’ve got. Hopefully we don’t come down with it.”

“A week?” Stone shifts Einnid in his arms. “That seems excessive. She’s miserable.”

“She is, but younglings get sick.” 

Distress builds up in his chest. “Well, but-like this?”

Her lips twitch. “You’ve never been sick, have you?”

Stone bites his lip. “Well-I...no, I haven’t.”

Clones are inoculated against anything with a produced vaccine. Beyond that, he’s never even known anyone, other than Ayddya and Einnid, that have been sick. He can’t imagine this is a normal course of events, no matter what Voyanna may say. 

“It’s perfectly normal, I promise.” She rubs her temple, takes a breath. “It’s not pretty, and it’s awful, but it’s part of childhood. Be glad you missed it.”

Stone scowls as he presses his cheek to Einnid’s hair, winces at how hot she feels. 

“She can’t burn up like this for a week!”

Voyanna frowns, presses the back of her hand to Einnid’s neck. She huffs. 

“She’s not that hot.”

When Stone glares at that, Voyanna startles him when she grabs his hand, presses it to her own cheek.

She’s warm too, not as much as Einnid, but certainly warmer than him. Her skin is soft too, no prickle of stubble on her cheeks like his. He isn’t sorry when she keeps his hand pressed there.

“We’re not human, remember?” She smiles. “Mirial is a cold desert, we run warmer than you lot.”

She takes his hand from her face, gives it a pat.

“But I did take the first appointment with the free clinic. In a day.”

“Good,” Stone sighs, relieved for the first time in days. “Good, what time do we need to be there?”

She frowns. “Well it’s-Stone, you don’t have to come, you know?”

He rests his chin on Einnid’s head. “But-I want to.” He widens his eyes. “Please?”

Voyanna rolls her eyes. “You’ve spent too much time with the younglings.”

“Does that mean it worked?”

Her expression softens and she nods. “Yeah, it did.”

-

Stone jerks awake, grunts an affirmative, to what he isn’t sure, then slips back to sleep on the lumpy couch in Fox’s office. 

He’s vaguely aware of the argument occurring, but he’s too tired to care, even when asked his opinion.

Finally, Thire and Thorn drag him out, grumbling between themselves, occasionally lobbing questions at Stone. He answers in half sentences, sleep muffled and incoherent.

“Are you hungover?” Thorn finally asks, when Stone nearly walks into the wall.

“No,” he mumbles, rubbing his hand over his face.

A hangover would be more pleasant, he’s sure of it.

He’d stayed late at Voyanna’s, rocking Einnid as she chilled and whimpered. Her coughs had gotten more brutal, rattling in her chest before the wheezing set back in, breathing ragged. It had made Stone too uneasy to even set, afraid he’d fall asleep and something would happen to her. 

Finally, in the smallest hours of the night, her breathing had eased enough for Stone to put her to bed, though he’d still sat beside her for another hour, dabbing her forehead with a cool damp rag, before nodding off.

He’d woken to Voyanna draping a soft blanket over his shoulders, trying to wedge a pillow under his head. 

“I was worried you’d get a crick in your neck,” she whispered as Stone popped his neck and back, sat up. 

“S’alright,” he yawned. “I’ve got to go.”

She frowned, looked at the chrono ticking away on the wall. “But you’ve barely slept!”

He shrugged. 

“You’ll be dead on your feet.”

“I’ll be fine.”

He doesn’t remind her about the modifications in his genetic code again, making him able to run on less sleep. It’ll only upset her. 

Besides, he’s already plotted out a few hours he can steal for some shut eyes. He just has to make it to the evening. Nothing short of a blaster to the chest will make him miss that appointment.

“You sure you’re alright, vod?”

Stone nods, pops his neck. “Yeah, just slept wrong.”

Thorn doesn’t look wholly convinced, but doesn’t press the issue, just sighs.

“Well, you look like hell.” 

“I love it when you sweet talk me.”

“Always, vod.”

-

Stone stumbles through his day, manages a quick nap and to down a ration bar before slipping away to the bakery. 

“You really don’t have to go,” Voyanna tells him as he arranges Einnid on his hip, tosses a light blanket over her.

“I want to.” He wraps his arm around Ayddya as she clings to his side. “It’ll ease my mind.”

He waits a moment.

“As long as you're okay with it?”

In the end, it really is her choice. He’s only a visitor, a friend at best and an interloper at worst. They’re her nieces. 

She smoothes Einnid’s hair, gives him a soft smile. “Of course I am. I just don’t want you to feel obligated.”

He’s never felt less obligated in his life. Guarding senators, doing transports and filing reports, those are obligations, frustrating and exhausting. Spending time with her and the girls is a choice, one he’d make every day of his short life if given the option. 

Instead of saying all that, she’s got enough on her plate without his messy desires, he just nods. 

They take the crowded underground, several clicks east, to an even darker and more foreboding section of the under city. 

The free clinic is in an ancient building on a corner. It’s caved in on one side, tattered orange caution banners stretched across the opening. Someone’s painted crude messages on one of the still standing walls. There are beings loitering around the dimly lit entry, some smoking, others drinking, a few younglings, a little older than the girls, playing a game with a hover ball.

Hurrying past them, Stone follows Voyanna. He pulls the blanket over Einnid’s head to shield her from the acrid smoke hanging in the air. 

Inside is no better. The walls are a stark white, though dingy, plastered with public health announcements, some peeling off, half falling down. Overhead, the harsh lights occasionally flicker, a bit ominous. It’s packed full, beings of every species sitting in the battered chairs lining the wall, beaten benches, others on the floor, some hacking, retching, others vomiting into bowls and bins. They pass a purple Twi’lek female holding an infant, feeding it at her breast, and she watches them, anxious and fearful, until the baby begins squeaking.

They come to a little window, manned by a Nikto who ignores them. 

Voyanna stares at him for a moment, watches him flip through his holozine, before banging on the window. 

“Hey! We’ve got an appointment! We need to check in!”

Lazily, the Nikto looks up. He yawns and waves a device at them. It registers something, and he huffs. He then points to the waiting area. 

“So do some of them, lady. The triage monitor says you’re safe to wait.” He reaches under his desk, pulls out the most pitiful and beaten datapad Stone has ever seen, pushes it through the slat under the window. “Fill out the updates and bring it back.”

Glaring, Voyanna takes the pad and gestures for Stone to find them a patch of wall to take up.

They wedge on a bench, between an elderly Weequay and a family of Gran. Stone can feel the Twi’lek mother watching them, almost warily, setting him on edge. He shifts Einnid in his arms, angles them away from her steady gaze. 

Voyanna sighs and fills in the forms on the pad, occasionally muttering to herself and hugging Ayddya when she nuzzles into her side. 

“Stay with Stone, I’ve got to turn this in,” she whispers, squeezing Ayddya’s hand. 

When she comes back, Ayddya has slouched on the bench, so she has to maneuver her to squeeze in beside her, then shift her onto her lap. 

Stone glares at the Nikto. He’d been watching Voyanna too closely as she walked away for his liking. “I thought you had an appointment?”

She shrugs. “I do. Emergencies come in though, bump us back.”

The free clinic is the only medical care some in this sector get, she explains. It only opens once a week, so a visit is a major event, and many very ill who are unable to make it topside wait for them to be open. 

“There were more clinics a few years ago.”

But funding had been slashed for public health and many had closed, forcing their patients to consolidate to the few remaining. It had created longer and sicker lines of beings. 

“We used to have one down the street, but it got the ax.” She sighs. “Anyways, all that to say, an appointment is no guarantee of time. They’ll see us once the sicker patients are cared for. It’s nothing to wait an hour or more.”

She grimaces apologetically.

“You really are free to go. This isn’t the most thrilling of trips.”

Stone looks around. It’s a nightmare. Every medic in the Guard would be appalled at the state of the waiting room. 

Tightening his arm around Einnid, he sighs. 

“Not a chance.”

-

It’s nearly two hours before they’re called back. 

During that time, Stone had watched an old Bothan collapse and be dragged back, only to be hauled back out in a cart, an IV in his neck and a bag fixed on a pole over his head. A Rodian had come rushing in after that, squawking and clutching at its neck. They’d not brought it back out from the back. 

Voyanna has slouched over into him, her face pressed to his shoulder and Ayddya sprawled in her lap, so Stone nudges her awake. 

“Finally,” she grumbles, rubbing her eyes before standing and righting Ayddya as well, picking her up and setting her on her hip. “Let’s go get you two well.”

Stone carries Einnid, patting her back as she begins weakly coughing. 

They’re led back down a dim hall, past tiny rooms already filled with retching and wheezing patients. 

“Here,” the Nikto tells them, pointing to a curtained off area with a small cot. 

Stone starts to set Einnid down, but she clings to him tighter and he sighs, plops gracelessly onto the cot, hoping it’s groaning and cracking isn’t a sign it’s about to collapse. He reclines against the wall, wincing when it makes more ominous noises. 

Ayddya crawls beside him, lays down and rests her head on his thigh. 

“I need you to come fill out some other forms,” the Nikto tells Voyanna, earning a huff of agitation. 

“I’ve been here two hours and now you want more forms filled out?”

He shrugs, his eyes lingering on her chest. 

She crosses her arms, shoots him a nasty look before turning her back on him and looking at Stone. 

“Are you alright if I step out and deal with this?”

He’d rather she stay. Not because of being left alone with the girls, but more because he wants to wring the Nikto’s neck. 

He glares at the Nikto. “Yeah. Unless you want me to deal with it?”

Her lips twitch up. “Never you worry.”

Stone waits in the room, listens to the cries of other younglings, wheezing and splattering, yells, until the curtain drags open.

It’s not Voyanna.

An outdated droid rolls in, chipped paint and mismatched eyes, it’s wheels grinding to a stop as it surveys Stone and the girls. It tilts its head, looks down at the beaten datapad in its mechanical hands. 

“This form is incorrect,” it states, sounding as exasperated as a droid is capable. 

“I doubt that.” 

“It is,” it says again. “Your mate has listed the children incorrectly as having a Mirialan father and Human mother. You are clearly a human.”

Stone starts to correct it, but the droid noisily rolls closer, pulls out a scanning device and begins work.

“It doesn’t matter. It will not make a difference in the treatment.”

The scanner starts with Ayddya, lights flickering over her before the droid nods. 

“Viral upper respiratory infection. Quite common. Fluids and rest and it should run its course in one to two weeks.”

Not waiting for Stone to question anything, it moves to Einnid, turning the scanner on and letting it flicker and flash again before nodding.

“Pneumonia. She will need an injection and breathing treatment, then may return home for fluids and rest.”

It opens a compartment on its chest and pulls out a vial, begins assembling the injection.

“Can we wait for Voy?” Stone eyes the injection warily. “Or can we get, er, someone…”

Not a droid, he wants to say. It makes him uneasy letting one of them jab something, even something helpful, into one of the girls. 

“Are you requesting an organic?”

Stone hesitates, not even sure he’s allowed to make that decision, then nods. “Er, yes?”

The droid nods. “Very well. I’ll send in the assistant. They will also bring the breathing treatment for the youngling.”

Without another word, the droid rolls out, on to the next room.

It’s a few minutes more, then an orange Twi’lek comes in, smiling brightly. 

“Hello, papa, you requested a non-droid for the youngling?”

Grimacing, Stone nods, only half listening to her.

“It is no worry. We get these requests sometimes.” She reaches behind him, pulls something from the wall, attaches it to a mask, and sets it beside him. She pats Einnid on the leg. “I need to get to her thigh, papa. A little medicine and then we do the treatment.”

“It’s going to hurt her,” Stone points out. “Can’t we give her something for the pain?”

Her lekku twitch and she shakes her head. “Best to get it over with.”

Uncertainly, Stone helps her expose Einnid’s upper thigh. The Twi’lek rubs something on her, the jabs her with the needle.

Einnid’s sleeping expression screws up and she begins crying, burrowing into Stone’s chest.

Hugging her closer, he rubs her back, murmurs nonsense into her hair until her sobs settle into quiet whimpers.

“Oh, you are a good papa,” the Twi’lek coos, connecting something to the mask. 

“Oh,” Stone frowns, realizing what she’s been saying. “I’m not-”

“Here,” she cuts him off, puts the mask in his hand. “Hold this to her face. It will help her breath.”

Cautiously, Stone holds the mask near Einnid’s face, letting the medicine fumes blow towards her. 

He opens his mouth to correct her about who he is, but Voyanna comes back before he can speak. 

“I heard her crying,” she says, brows pulled together. 

“She got an antibiotic shot for her pneumonia,” the Twi’lek informs her. She pats Einnid’s head. “She was a good girl for her papa.”

Heat flushing his face, Stone starts to correct her, but Voyanna laughs. 

“Good,” she says, reaching out and smoothing Einnid’s hair. “We’ll be done soon?”

The Twi’lek nods. “Yes, once the doctor has come in. She does not trust the droids anymore than your husband.”

She disconnects the mask and tosses it and the medicine away and tells them the doctor will be in soon before vanishing out the curtain. 

Voyanna brushes Ayddya’s hair, hums something and Stone watches, takes a breath. 

“She just assumed-I didn’t tell her I was their dad.”

She smiles. “I get called their mother all the time. There’s no harm in it.”

He nods, pats Einnid’s back, cast a furtive look at her. 

“She thought I was your husband.”

Voyanna snorts. “Upset? Think you can do better?”

Stone keeps his gaze down, focused on her hip, the sliver of green skin peeking out from under her top. 

“No.”

She takes a deep breath, and Stone sees her feet shuffle, step forward. He can feel her warmth closer and knows she’s on the cusp of saying something…

The curtain slides open and a brassy voice breaks their silence. 

“What’ve we got here?” The loud little doctor says, squinting at her datapad. “I’m Doc Jane. Halvsies, eh?”

Stone feels his insides drop to his feet. Doc Jane, the mad doctor from the sex education program. 

She looks up, frowns, then looks down at the pad again. Then she snorts. 

“Damn droid,” she mutters, smacking the datapad. 

Voyanna bites her lip, expression pinched with concern. “There a problem?”

The doctor waves the question away. 

“No, dearie, the damn droid is just too obtuse to realize this man is no more these girls’ father than I’m a Weequay.” She looks up, a grim smile on her face. “Clones haven’t been around long enough to produce younglings their ages.”

Voyanna pales. “He’s no clone.”

Doc Jane arches an eyebrow. “Yes he is.”

“No, he’s not,” she tells her, a bit more tersely. 

Looking at Stone, Doc Jane frowns. “Have I just given away your big secret?”

“No,” Stone finally finds his voice. He looks at Voyanna, gives what he hopes is a reassuring smile. “She knows, obviously. She came to the barracks for a...class.”

He feels his cheeks warms. He does not want to explain what kind of class the doctor had been leading for the men. 

Voyanna makes an uncertain face. “You won’t-you aren’t going to tell anyone he’s here?”

“Yeah, not to worry. I’m no narc.” Doc Jane puts her stethoscope on. “Hells, I’d have more to turn myself in for, running a semi-legal clinic with questionably obtained supplies. Besides, what’s the point in it? He’s not hurting anything.”

She listens first to Ayddya and then Einnid, then loops the stethoscope around her neck. 

“They’ll live. Be a bit puny for a while, but who isn’t?” She sighs. “Let’s get you out of here. I’ve still got a few dozen waiting to be seen.”

She leads them out, to an exit hall, stopping at a closet. 

“Let me get you some medicine. Give it over the next week. If she doesn’t improve, you’ll bring her back, yeah?”

Voyanna nods, hitches Ayddya up a bit on her hip. 

“Maybe we should switch?” Stone asks. “Or I can take both?”

She shakes her head, smiles. “I’m not weak.”

Chuckling, Stone has a tease at the end of his tongue when something grabs his arm, tries to pull him around. 

Turning, he frowns when he finds the purple Twi’lek mother looking equal parts furious and terrified as she begins yelling at him, a firm grip on his arm. 

“Ma’am, I don’t-I don’t speak Twi’lek,” he tries to explain, turning Einnid away from her as she gets louder. 

Undeterred, she begins frantically gesturing first to herself, then up, then the baby. Stone has a sudden, sinking feeling he knows exactly what she’s trying to relay to him. 

When she jabs a finger in his chest Voyanna grabs her hand and steps between them, eyes narrowed. 

“Bugger off,” she snaps. “Find yourself your own man, this one’s taken.”

Voice going higher, the Twi’lek clutches her baby and looks past Voyanna, eyes wide and on Stone. 

“I said get lost,” Voyanna growls, shielding Ayddya. “Let’s get out of here Stone.”

Before she can push him to go, Doc Jane emerges from the storage closet, bag in hand. 

“What’s all this?”

“She’s harassing us, that’s what,” Voyanna snaps. “Tell her if she touches him again I’ll rip her lek off.”

Doc Jane frowns, asks the Twi’lek something, listens, then looks at Stone before asking another. 

The Twi’lek answers, more pointing at Stone and gesturing to herself and the baby, before Doc Jane nods. 

“Ah, well, that’s unfortunate.”

“What is?” Stone’s insides roll, already anticipating the worst. 

Doc Jane arches an eyebrow. “She says this is your baby. Trying to tell your family you’re been wandering.”

Stone shakes his head. “I’ve-I don’t know her.”

He’s been to the red light district exactly once, and it hadn’t resulted in any activity that would produce a baby.

“Well, to be fair to her, all human males look alike,” Doc Jane says, only a trace of humor in her voice. “Plus you’ve got one of those faces.”

She tells the Twi’lek something, takes her by the shoulder and directs her toward another hall. The Twi’lek hesitates, looks at Stone for a moment, then says something more. 

Doc Jane shakes her head and the Twi’lek sniffles, nods and takes her baby in the direction she’d been directed. She casts Stone one last sad look before vanishing. 

“What did you tell her?” Voyanna asks, glaring in the direction the Twi’lek went, still standing in front of Stone.

“She’s a scared mother with a hungry baby,” Doc Jane answers, voice soft and exhausted. “I told her she’s got the wrong man. Said you’ve got a brother that’s a bit of a scoundrel but you don’t know where he is. It’s the truth...from a certain point of view.” 

Stone nods, an ache setting up in his chest. 

“Do you-do you suppose it’s really a clone’s child?” 

She makes a face. “Oh, I don’t doubt it.”

Taking a deep breath, she shakes her head. 

“Didn’t get you lads educated up on the do’s and don’t’s of sex early enough, it seems.” She jerks her thumb over her shoulder. “I’ve had dozens of babies dumped at clinics all over this damned planet-city. Your brothers are a prolific bunch.”

When Stone winces, looks toward where the Twi’lek went, she softens her voice. 

“Ah, now, don’t take it personally. You all’ve the same face, but as far as personalities, demeanor, and sense of responsibility, you’re as mixed a bag as any.”

Nodding, Stone focuses on Einnid’s breathing, the lessened rattle in her chest against his.

Biologically, that was his baby. It had his genes, even if not from his body. It’s an unsettling thought. 

“I’ll get her some help,” he finally says. 

Doc Jane rolls her eyes. “How? Paternity test and prove it’s one of your ilk’s and then what? I’ll tell you, we’ve contacted those Hutt droppings on Kamino and they’re as much help as a punch to the nuts. Only care if the offspring’s mother is human or not.”

“Why?” 

She shrugs. “Hell if I know. We told them none were from humans for worry what they’d want with them.”

Einnid wriggles against him and he sighs. 

There’s nothing he can do for the Twi’lek or the baby. Not at the moment anyways. 

Turning to Voyanna, he opens his mouth, but can’t think of anything to say. 

After a heartbeat, she smiles sadly. 

“Thanks for the medicine, Doc.” She hoists Ayddya up a bit more, jerks her head toward the exit. “Come on. Let's go home.”

-

Stone doesn’t speak as they ride home, walk along the half deserted streets, into the bakery and up the stairs. He doesn’t even sign in relief as he finally puts Einnid in her bed, watches her breath easier for the first time in days. 

He sits in the chair by their bed and watches them, wondering just how any of his brothers, men with his entire being imprinted into their code, could abandon their child. It makes no sense. 

“Stone?” Voyanna says his name, just above a whisper. “Stone, can you come with me?”

Biting his lip, he gives the girls one last once over before standing, letting her lead him out by the hand. 

“Sit,” she tells him, once they’re at the couch. 

Wordlessly, he does as told, sinks into the cushions as she sits beside him, turned toward him, expression concerned. 

“It’s not your fault,” she softly tells him, reaching out, her fingertips stroking his head. “You aren’t responsible for all your brothers.”

He huffs. “I’m a commander. I technically am.”

She scowls. “And how are you to know what every man is doing? You can’t stop some of them doing a bit of dick and dash, now can you? Even in men who aren’t clones that happens-”

“We’re supposed to be better,” he cuts her off. “We’re supposed to be better than regular men.”

She gives his ear a gentle tug. “Better, but still human. All beings have faults.”

He nods, scrubs his hands over his face. 

“I just-how could he have left her? The baby?”

She takes his hand, rubs her thumb over his knuckles. 

“People abandon their children all the time,” she tells him with a sigh, shakes her head. “Stone, I greatly doubt he knew he was knocking her up and running. Probably just thought it was a fun time and scarpered off. Loads of men do.”

Nodding, he tries not to think of any man foolish enough to do such a thing with her. 

“You’re tired,” she says, after a pause, rubs her hand over his head. “Why don’t you lie down for a bit? I’ll wake you so you have enough time to get back.”

When he opens his mouth to decline, she narrows her eyes.

“I’m not to be argued with tonight.”

Chuckling, he eases into the couch, rests his head back and closes his eyes as she traces lines on his head. 

-

Stone wakes still on the couch, something lightly brushing the stubble on his head. 

At some point he slouched over, rolled on his stomach. Opening his bleary eyes, he squints around. 

It takes him a moment to process he’s got his cheek pressed to something very soft, very warm, and very alive. 

His pulse speeds up when he realizes just what he’s got his nose pressed up against. 

Voyanna’s heart is beating steadily in his ear, and his cheek is squished against her chest. One of her hands is rested on his head, the other curled around the nape of his neck. 

For a moment, he panics. He must’ve rolled on her in his sleep. Immediately, he takes stock of his hands, safely gripping her sides. Then he scolds himself. His hands are hardly his biggest concern when his face is buried between her breasts. 

He nearly pushes himself up, begins apologizing, then he feels her move. Cautiously, he glances up and sees her smiling softly. 

“Sleep well?”

Stone isn’t sure which is worse, looking up at her or looking back at her breasts. 

He settles on closing his eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” he quickly tells her, starts to push himself up, but gets held in place. 

Voyanna’s fingers trace along his head, soothing patterns, as she hums. 

“Go back to sleep,” she tells him, voice thick as she yawns. “You've got a few hours yet.”

Still warm with a flush, Stone steadies his breathing. 

“I’ll wake you,” she adds. 

Looking up, he sees her eyes are already closed, drifting back to sleep. 

Her breathing evens, Stone can feel her belly pressing to his with each breath. His stomach flips when she sighs, her breasts swelling around him, her breath exhaling over his skin. 

He notices the chrono on the table, the alarm set with time enough for him to get back to the barracks. 

She’d clearly set it, maybe even pulled him over on her. He hopes so. 

Relaxing, he closes his eyes again, focuses on the rhythm of her breathing and the beating of her heart, and drifts back to sleep. 

-

“And where have you been, young man?” Thorn asks, when Stone slinks in, just in time for the morning report. 

Stone twists, pops his back, yawns. He’s still exhausted from past night's sleeplessness. 

“Rack.” Which, technically, is true. He’d slept, at any rate. 

“You know, if you are going to lie, you should make it believable,” Thire tells him. “You were not in the barracks last night. We tracked your bucket. What’s in the lower levels that you’re visiting?”

Damn. Right. Why can’t Fox still be having a crisis?

“Nodded off in the speeder.”

Thorn snorts. “Well, that would explain why you look like a roughed up nerf. But you’ve been going for weeks, months now, so what’s down there?”

Fox glances at him from his desk, raises his eyebrows. 

“It’s best if you just fess up,” he finally says, eyes dropping back to the datapad. “You know how they are.”

Stone huffs. As if Fox had given in so easily. 

Still, he’s not wrong. They’ve probably only let it go on this long without question as a courtesy. His exhaustion over the past few days, though, probably pushed them to finally breaking their silence. 

Staring for a moment, Stone drums his fingers on the pad, considers his options. Either he tells them or they dig deeper, and he’d rather not have them turn up at the bakery and frighten the girls. 

Sucking in a breath, he sits on Fox's lumpy sofa. 

“Alright, remember when I had to work with those idiots at Coruscant Security?”

They nod, listen as he explains about the roof, the bakery owner not having the funds to fix it themselves, Stone volunteering to fix it himself. 

“Why don’t they just file a grievance?” Thorn asks. “Why do you have to fix it?”

“She’s filed grievances.” Stone rubs his scratchy, pink eyes. “Coruscant Police broke her front window months ago and she’s still fighting to get reparations for that. Plus she’s got a couple of little nieces she looks after...I can’t-it’s not right to leave them like that.”

Surely they understand that?

“She? Oh, I see.” Thorn leans in. “She’s pretty, isn’t she?”

“Hadn’t noticed,” Stone lies, his face burning. 

Thorn claps him on the back, chuckling. 

“Sure you haven’t.”

Stone rubs his hand on his head, lets it settle at his neck. The knot is back. 

“Look, it’s just helping them out, that’s all.”

He hears Fox sigh, looks up and sees him stand, lean on his desk. 

“Your secret is safe with us, vod,” he finally says, voice low and grave. 

Thire nods and Thorn gives him another pat on the back. 

“Yeah, won’t breath a word.”

There’s not an ounce of insincerity in their voices. They’re brothers. They’ll stand by one another, keep one another’s secrets. 

Smiling, Stone nods. 

“Thanks.”


	7. Here’s lookin’ at you, cyr’ika

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Star Wars, I only play with the characters.

Stone runs his hand over the last board. It’s smooth, fitted perfectly on the floor of Voyanna’s bedroom. His insides roll unpleasantly. It’s the last of the repairs.

He’s been avoiding it more than a week, finding excuses to go back over his old work and make adjustments. Voyanna had been baffled. 

“What could you possibly be adjusting?” She’d grinned. “Your craftsmanship is impeccable.”

She was right, unfortunately. He was grateful for her confidence as much as her levity.

For a moment he’d thought he’d ruined things between him and Voyanna, when they’d slept on the couch. Neither one of them had mentioned it, simply politely ignored it.

They’d moved back to their normal interactions, letting their night on the couch be nothing more than an unmentioned lapse in their relationship. Much as he’d wanted to talk about it, the discussion, he felt, was her’s to start.

More than that, he’s afraid of what she might say. He isn’t sure he wants to hear the pity and regret in her voice if she feels the night on the couch was a mistake.

Still, he’ll take friendship, if that’s all she has to offer. 

He enjoys his time with her and the girls. He’d take being nothing more than a close visitor than not being in their lives at all. 

Coming to the apartment after his shift, doing a few repairs before settling down for dinner, then maybe school work with the girls, a game, a holo, has become his routine. It’s a bit mundane, but it’s a taste of normalcy he’s never dreamed of, and now can’t fathom living without. 

A few times he’s caught himself imagining it as his real life. Just a simple man, making his way in the galaxy. A family. A home. 

It’s not his life though though. It’s a fantasy, however appealing. 

Staring at the perfectly matched seam, he sighs. His time playing house is at an end. The realization settles in his chest, a dull ache that grows sharper with each breath.

“Stone?” Voyanna’s voice carries through the bedroom door, and he turns just as she steps in, rests her hands on the doorframe and smiles. “Ready for dinner?”

He nods, glances back at the floor, perfect and finished.

“I-uh-I’m…” he takes a breath, closes his eyes. “It’s finished.”

Looking back, he sees her smile widen. “Really?” She shouts behind her, “Girls, come look!”

Little feet come running from the living room, through the door and toward him.

“You’ve finished!” Ayddya stomps her foot, testing the integrity of the floor. “It’s all done!” 

Einnid’s little arm wraps around his neck as she half sits on him, head tilted as she surveys the floor.

He feels Voyanna’s warmth beside him as she settles on her knees next to him, leans forward and runs her hands over the new material, smiling brightly. When she looks back, though, her smile fades. 

“Why do you look so grim?”

Stone starts to answer, but then realizes she’s talking to Einnid.

“Stone’s done,” she answers, tiny voice wobbling. “He won’t come see us anymore.”

Ayddya freezes, her expression shifting into one of panicked realization.

“But he-you can’t-” she looks at Voyanna then Stone. “You’ll still come won’t you?”

Stone’s heart cracks at her teary eyes, quivering chin. He opens his mouth, uncertain what to say, when Voyanna cuts in. 

“Of course he’ll still visit,” she tells them, her tone one of absolute certainty. Her expression falters though, when she looks at Stone. “Won’t you?”

The ache in his chest eases at their hopeful looks. They want him around, even if he’s got nothing to give, no task to complete, nothing but his company to bring them. He’s part of them.

Nothing would make him happier than to live out his short life in their company. He’d never leave them if given the option. 

“If you still want me around,” he says, cautious not to be too excited. “With no work to do.”

“We do,” Einnid assures him, squeezing him, kissing the side of his head. “We love you.”

Ayddya flings herself around him, nearly knocking him backwards. “You have to still come.”

Holding them close, Stone blinks when his eyes begin stinging.

Voyanna’s warm hand takes his, squeezes this fingers as she smiles.

“You’re a bit stuck with us now, I’m afraid.”

The ache in his chest vanishes.

“That’s a relief,” he tells her as the girls ease up, Einnid rubbing tear tracks from her face with her sleeve. “I’d starve if I had to live on rations now.”

Voyanna huffs. 

“You mean you’d starve if these two couldn’t shovel their leftovers on your plate when they think I won’t notice.”

Ayddya gasps. “Tanti, we do not.”

Stone chuckles guiltily, shoots her an apologetic look.

“Right,” Voyanna snorts. She pushes herself up, waves her hand. “Go on, get to the table. We don’t want the man to starve.”

Both girls tug on him, but when they begin pushing each other Voyanna scolds them and sends them to the table, leaving only the two of them in her room.

She waits until both girls are safely away, then bites her lip, gives him a tentative look.

“You aren’t obligated to come,” she says softly, just above a whisper. “I-it’s not your place to-”

“I want to,” he cuts her off. “I really-I like coming.”

Which is a half truth. In reality, he loves coming.

He loves feeling like he’s part of a real family, has a real home. He loves hearing about the girls’ classes and helping with schoolwork. He loves when they fall asleep around him, the girls curled into his side and Voyanna with her head on his shoulder. He loves them. He loves her.

Reaching out, Stone brushes her cheek, wiping away a smudge of gray flour.

She stares at him, and for a heartbeat Stone has the urge to lean in, kiss her lip where she’s bitten it. He hopes she’s having the same thought too.

The thought flees as quickly as it emerges, as Einnid squeals and Ayddya calls for Voyanna, breaking the spell. Stone’s hand drops to his side, fingertips burning with the warmth of her skin.

“You’re sure?” She asks, wincing as her name is called over and over again. “You can still make a clean break.”

Stone shrugs, gives her a half grin. “You’re a good cook. You’re a bit stuck with me, I’m afraid.”

She smiles. “Good.”

-

“I-uh...Jek is going to be playing Commander tonight,” Stone tells Fox, pausing to adjust the kama before adding, “unless you have any objections, of course.”

Which he might. Stone is supposed to be acting the part of ‘Commander Fox’ to give his fellow commander extra time with Senator Chuchi. It’s an elaborate shell game, each man pretending to be the other for a while and switching armor and buckets to keep from being found out. Stone abandoning post for something as frivolous as a youngling school play may not be well received. 

Fox arches an eyebrow. “I thought you were finished with the repairs?”

“I did,” Stone admits, feeling his face warming. “But, ah, Ayddya and Einnid invited me-they’ve got this school play, and they invited me.”

He holds up the flimsy, time, date, and address carefully written out in Ayddya’s unruly scrawl.

“Please? You have to come,” she’d implored, eyes widening. “I have a talking part this time.”

Einnid pointed to herself. “I’m a tree.”

Stone arched an eyebrow at that, unsure if he should congratulate her. Being a tree didn’t seem like much of an achievement, but he wasn’t sure. 

“I don’t-uh, I don’t think I can,” he finally admitted. 

Ayddya scowled. “Why not?”

Rubbing at his neck, he considered his answer. Reluctantly, he’d looked up.

“I-it wouldn’t be...” He sighed. “I haven’t got anything to wear.”

He’s got his blacks and his armor and a few dress uniforms reserved for senate events. All of them, though, are clearly Grand Army issued, set him apart as a clone. It’s not something he’s keen to advertise while he’s skirting propriety.

Voyanna’s lips twitched. “Is that all?”

She’d dragged him to her room, dug under her bed and pulled out a battered box.

“My brother’s interview outfit,” she explained, holding it out to him. “He never got to wear it.”

Taking it, Stone frowned. 

The material was cheap but the cuts and stitching were meticulous. It was more carefully made than his dress uniform, which was pitiful by most standards.

“I’d have sold it off ages ago, but,” she makes a face, “it’s not worth anything, being handmade.”

He frowned. “You made this?”

She shrugged. “Sort of. Cannibalized a few outfits and stitched them together.”

Stone held it up, trying to determine if it would fit. 

“Try it on,” she told him. “If it needs alterations I can make them tonight.”

He’d stared at her. 

“Now? With you…”

Though he was sure he didn’t have anything she’d never seen, it still made him worried he’d offend her somehow.

She laughed. “I’ll step out.”

Stone had never tried on anything that wasn’t tailored specifically for a clone. When he couldn’t button the pants he developed a deep appreciation for why Sabé and Saché always complained about their dresses. 

“You are a bit sturdier than Valen,” Voyanna muttered, reaching out toward the pants. 

Jumping back, Stone felt his face flush. 

Her hands that close to such a sensitive area was a bad idea.

“I’ll just-I can just take them off for you to adjust.”

Nodding, she looked away, her cheeks a little bright. “Probably a good idea.”

They’d decided he’d wear his own pants after that, with the shirt and a jacket, and none would be the wiser.

“Voyanna offered to let me use some of her brother’s old clothes, so I don’t stand out.” Stone explains, his face warming at the memory. 

It’s probably a bad idea.

“I don’t have to go,” he quickly adds, giving Fox an easy way to decline his request. 

Fox rolls his eyes. “I’m hardly in a position to lecture anyone about improper conduct.”

There’s no argument there. He’s part of an elaborate ruse constructed to allow him to spend time with a senator he’s doing things with that are definitely against protocol.

Stone snorts. “No, but at least you can claim you're doing something remotely close to your job. Where’s my excuse?”

Other than being boots over bucket for a pretty girl and adoring a couple of younglings, that is. Neither of which are valid excuses as far as the Grand Army is concerned. 

“What did Thire say? We all need a little bit of happiness?” Fox says, claps him on the shoulder. “Go. Be careful, but go.”

Lips twitching, Stone shoves Fox’s bucket on. 

“Heads up, Fox, Saché gave me a Hosnian slider for dinner. Bucket doesn’t smell so nice.”

He swears he hears Fox make a snarling noise as he walks away.

The kama is heavy on his hips as he rides the lift down. Despite adjusting it, putting it higher and lower, it doesn’t seem to want to settle. Of course Fox’s kama would be as temperamental as him.

The doors ding, slide open and Stone freezes.

“Commander?”

Saché is standing just outside the doors, nose wrinkled in confusion as she takes in his appearance. 

Stone almost groans. Of all the people to run into. Of course the Lorrdian would instantly know he’s an imposter. 

“...I can explain?”

She bites back a grin. “I'm sure it’s a real doozy.”

Before Stone can even begin, though he’s sure she’s already working out just why he’s in Fox’s kama and bucket, he notices the trooper at her side. 

He’s a standard trooper, fresh paint job on his armor and bucket tucked under his arm. He snaps to attention the moment he realizes there’s an officer in front of him. 

“Sir!”

Stone nearly waves the formality off, the trooper is clearly on leave by the look of him, but stifles the instinct. Fox may be merciful but he’s not lax. 

“You are supposed to have the bucket on, trooper.” He nods toward Saché. “Even if you are playing escort. It’s protocol in the Senate.”

Paling a little, the trooper starts to put the lid on, but stops when Saché catches his hand. She looks at Stone, arches an eyebrow. 

“Fox, my little mooncalf, don’t be such a hardass.” She pats her trooper on the arm. “I’m escorting Fives, not the other way around. I told him to keep the hat off.”

The trooper’s expression slips, softens into confusion as he looks between Saché and her hand on his arm. She may very well be the first positive female interaction he’s had, at the least the first civilian female. Her attention, however innocent, is welcome, Stone can tell. If Ayddya is to be believed, Stone has had the same thunderstruck look on his face around Voyanna at times. 

Saché waits a beat, then turns to her trooper. 

“Sweetness, go wait with the boys and Sabs. I need to have a little talk with the Commander.”

He hesitates, cuts Stone a wary look. 

“If you’re sure, ma’am.”

Saché gives his arm a squeeze then nods in the direction of the exit, toward the landing pad. 

“He’s not so scary, I promise. And I know my way around this dump.”

Lingering for a moment, the trooper moves his bucket from under one arm to the other, clearly hoping Saché will change her mind, before finally nodding. 

She waits until he’s away before turning back to Stone, points upward. 

“I gotta go up and report some time-sensitive intel to Senator Chuchi.” She grins. “I’m not gonna walk in on her and your sweet tempered commander doing filthy things on her office desk, am I?”

Stone chuckles. “I make no guarantees.”

Her nose wrinkles up. “Ugh. That’ll be my luck.”

As Stone steps off she steps on, smiles out as she leans to the floor selector. 

“You got a date tonight, big guy?”

Stone shrugs. “Something like that.”

“I hope it goes well.”

“Yours too.”

She snorts. “My night out is no date.”

Stone jerks his thumb over his shoulder, to where the trooper vanished. “Does he know that?”

Her smile freezes and pink creeps on her cheeks. 

“He ought to,” she finally says, shaking Stone’s observation away. “I’ve got a dozen troopers I’m giving a grand tour of Coruscant to. It’s hardly romantic.”

“Hmm.” He shrugs. “Does it have to be?”

Saché’s nose wrinkles. “No, I suppose it doesn’t.”

Biting her lip, she glances to where the trooper had vanished, then back to Stone. She sighs, then her expression settles back into an ornery grin. 

“Cross your fingers I don’t get an eyeful up there,” she tells him as she hits her floor and the doors slid shut.

Chuckling to himself, Stone turns and hurries off, sure he’ll get an earful tomorrow about her interruption.

-

The auditorium of the school is dark and full of families as Voyanna leads Stone down the narrow aisles. She grips his hand and tugs him along, weaves behind and in front of people, snapping at a group loitering to move along before they finally reach their assigned row. 

“Karking hells,” she hisses when she spots their seats, already occupied. 

Stone winces when she shouts at the pair to move, waves her school issued tickets in their faces. 

“They assign seats so every youngling gets at least one family member in the audience,” she explains, once they’re seated, the ousted pair shooting them dark looks as they skulk off. “They’re just going to have to stand.”

“One?” Stone asks, examining his own ticket, ‘guest-Einnid Koyi’ stamped on the front.

“Mmhmm,” she nods, leaning closer so Stone can see her ticket, stamped ‘guest-Ayddya Koyi’. “We got lucky having two kids.”

Pulling his cap lower on his head, Stone nods, slouches in the seat so as not to block the tiny being behind his seats view. He glances around, wondering if anyone crowded around him might recognize him as a clone…

Voyanna pats his knee, startling him out of his worries. She leans over, so close Stone can smell the fruit from the pies she’d been baking clinging to her skin, feel her warmth radiating through the strange fabric of the borrowed jacket and shirt. 

“Relax,” she whispers, her breath tickling his ear. “Troopers don’t come down here much and even if anyone’s seen one of you, I doubt they’ll be on the lookout in the middle of a younglings’ pageant.”

She takes his hand, laces her fingers with his as she puts it in her lap, pats it gently.

“Just enjoy the overacting and bad singing.”

She’s not paying attention, is focused on the stage and the younglings already on it, setting up some very battered looking props.

He takes a breath, stares up at the stage, but can’t focus on them. Even when one of the younglings trips and loses a box off the end of the stage, he’s too distracted to even chuckle at the mishap. 

Stone’s attention is solely fixed on the sensation of her skin on his, the way her fingers trace patterns on the back of his hand. Out the corner of his eye he can see the swell of her breast, pressed distractingly up in her too tight top. Even the way her lips press together, twitch as she tries not to laugh at the mess on stage, is too much to ignore. 

Finally, a brittle voice squeaks overheard, advising everyone to take their seats.

“It’s about to start,” Voyanna tells him, unnecessarily, squeezing his hand tighter. “Force, I hope Ayddya doesn’t swear on stage.”

Stone chuckles. He kind of hopes she does.

-

“I only said one bad word,” Ayddya defends herself again, as they ascend the stairs to the apartment. 

“That’s one more than you were supposed to have said,” Voyanna reminds her. “Otherwise I’d not have a meeting with your teacher at the first of the week.”

Einnid yawns by Stone’s ear, rests her head on his shoulder.

Once the play had ended, they’d traversed the underground, been delayed an hour, then got dumped out another hour walk from the apartment. Einnid had tired out quickly, begged Stone to carry her, but Ayddya was too wound up from her acting debut, though the walk had wilted her considerably 

“I was a good tree,” Einnid says, voice thick with sleepiness. “Wasn’t I?”

Stone chuckles. “Best tree I have ever seen. Best dancing by a tree, definitely.”

Though he’s certain the dancing wasn’t scripted, if the teacher frantically telling her to be still from the side of the stage was any indication. 

She yawns again, nuzzles into his neck and closes her eyes.

As Voyanna explains for the tenth time why swearing at school isn’t allowed, Stone carries Einnid to bed.

He pulls off her shoes and tucks her in, presses a kiss to her forehead.

Einnid’s eyes crack open as she grins, pokes her finger into his cheek. 

“You’re prickly.”

Stone rubs his hand over his cheek. He is a bit overdue.

Eyes drifting closed, she yawns again.

“Nite, Stone. Love you.”

Brushing her hair back, he kisses her forehead again.

“Love you too, little one.”

As he stands, Ayddya wanders in, yawning broadly.

“Goodnight, Stone,” she tells him, flings her arms around his middle. “See you tomorrow.”

Hugging her back, Stone presses a kiss to her hair. 

“Sweet dreams.”

He makes sure she gets to the bed before pulling the door shut, sighing.

“I wish they’d fix the karking transports,” Voyanna grumbles, rubbing her eyes. She looks at the chrono on the wall, sighs at the lateness of the hour. “I’m sorry it’s so late. If I’d known it was going to be such a transportation nightmare I wouldn’t have dragged you along.”

“It’s not a problem.” He grins. “Who would want to miss dancing trees and cursing fairies?”

She snorts, presses her palm to her forehead. “Don’t remind me the swearing.”

For a moment she stares at him, then lets her hand slip down, presses it to her chest as she says something. 

When she looks at him expectantly, Stone grimaces. He’d been too distracted by the way he hand pressed to her breasts, hadn’t heard her question.

“I-sorry, I...didn’t hear,” he admits, rubbing his neck, dropping his gaze to her feet.

She smiles. 

“I said since it’s so late you’re welcome to stay the night again.” Her cheeks darken. “I’ll get you better accommodations this time than the couch.”

Stone’s hand moves, presses the knot in his neck a little more firmly. 

The couch hadn’t been an issue. Worry his body would have a natural, but embarrassing, reaction to being so closely wedged against hers had been his only issue. If not for that, he’d have had an enjoyable night.

They hadn’t discussed that night. Stone had simply woken and left for the barracks, and when he’d arrived back that evening, she’d not spoken of it. He’d half thought he’d dreamed it up. 

Glancing up at her, Stone shrugs. “Couch is fine.”

She shakes her head. “It’ll kill your back, you make a habit of it. My bed at least has some support.”

Head snapping up, he stares at her, unsure he’s heard her right. 

“Don’t worry, I won’t make you share with me again.” 

Looking up, Stone gives her a half smile. “Not doing a great job selling me on the bed.”

For a moment she’s quiet, expression frozen and gaze fixed on him. Then she closes her eyes, sighs.

“You’ve got to stop saying things like that.”

Frowning, Stone takes a half step towards her. “Like what?”

“Like that,” she groans, buries her face in her hands. “Like you’re interested. Because you say those things and it-and I get stupid and over step and muddle things. Like when we slept on the couch and made things awkward.”

“But I…” Stone takes a breath, finds a bit of courage, “I am interested.”

Voyanna doesn’t say anything, just watches him with a closed sort of expression. 

The air around them is thick, tense, and Stone feels sweat prickle on the back of his neck.

“How could I not be?” He adds suddenly, grimacing. He hadn’t meant to say it aloud.

She makes a noise, a cross between a laugh and a sob, covers her face with her hands for a beat before letting them drop, smiling weakly. 

“I’m flat broke-I’m essentially a single mother-I-I’m an absolute crabby mess.” She shakes her head. “I’ve not exactly got men banging down my door.”

Stone frowns. “Well...I don’t get paid, so…I think that makes me more than broke.”

She snorts and Stone smiles. 

“The girls are wonderful, and if you are crabby...well, I’ll take your crabbiness over my commanding officer’s.”

Biting her lip, Voyanna takes a step closer.

“That morning-you got up and just left...you wouldn’t even look at me, and I thought-I thought you were angry with me…” She gnaws her cheek. “Like I’d taken advantage of the situation.”

Stone feels his cheeks flame up, rubs his hand over his head. 

“No, I was...I didn’t want to...I was afraid if I looked at you the thing I was trying not to let happen, would.”

He glances down, mortified at having to admit such a thing.

She’s quiet at first, then sucks in a breath. 

“Oh!” Her eyes flick down as bites back a smile. “Oh, Stone, I’m so sorry!”

The hint of a laugh in her voice makes him feel like she may not be that sorry.

He glares at his feet, furious his body’s natural reactions had caused such a stupid misunderstanding. If he’d just had more control he might’ve been able to have a conversation with her that morning, maybe that night, things might’ve-

His ruminating is interrupted by a warm hand on his face, tipping his chin up.

“I shouldn’t have assumed,” she says softly, smile gone, replaced by gentle regret. She sighs. “I haven’t-I haven’t been on the dating scene since before Einnid was born. Guess I forgot how complicated it can be.”

Stone shrugs. “Well...I have never been on the dating scene.”

Her lips twitch and her hand goes to the back of his neck, pulls him a fraction closer. 

“Consider yourself lucky.”

Something heavy hangs between them, teeters on the cusp as Voyanna’s other hand comes up, brushes the stubble on his cheek.

“You can tell me to back off,” she whispers.

Stone leans in, his hands cautiously finding her waist, shakes his head. 

For a heartbeat she stares at him.

In a blink she swears under her breath then lurches forward, lips crashing into his.

Almost knocked off balance, Stone shifts and she starts to pull back, but he murmurs ‘no’ against her mouth, pulls her flush against his chest, and her arms tighten around his neck. 

Her lips move, kiss across his cheek then nip at his ear before moving to his jaw. She tastes like the cheap orange drink she’d bought from the vending machine before their walk. Stone presses his face into her hair, inhales the smoke from the street still clinging to her, tries to memorize the feeling of her body against his. 

Somehow they move, Voyanna wedged between Stone and her bedroom door. She makes a throaty noise, her hands running down his chest before finding the waist of his pants. When she begins fumbling with the clasp, Stone freezes.

It takes her a moment, her breathing as labored as his, before she’s able to speak.

“If you don’t want to…” 

Her cheeks are flush and her eyes bright and Stone swallows, tries to find his voice. 

“I want to,” he finally manages to croak out, his hands massaging her waist. She’s impossibly soft. “I just-I’ve never...”

He gives her a weak smile, hoping she understands. 

She sucks in a breath. “Oh.” Her fingers absently toy with clasp and she frowns. “Never?”

Cheeks burning, Stone grimaces. “Well…”

In the early days, once they’d determined that while illegal, prostitution was tolerated, several men had scrounged up some credits and headed to the red light district near the Senate District. Stone had gone along with several of his Batchmates, their last outing together before the other four shipped out.

They’d grossly underestimated the cost of an evening with female companionship.

Despite having nowhere near enough credits, the brothel madam had taken mercy on them. She’d taken their credits, then had them line up in a back room, pants around their ankles, and had a couple of girls volunteer for their charity case. 

While not awful, it was systematic and more than a little humiliating. Stone hadn’t breathed a word of the mishap to the other commanders, too embarrassed by the lapse in standards to even think of it. 

Voyanna bites back a smile. “Most men aren’t so disappointed in a cheap blow job.”

He scowls. “I know.”

She cups his cheek, ducks a bit to look him in the eye.

“That’s a compliment, if you missed it.” 

She smiles, inches close enough her nose bumps his, gives him a quick kiss before nuzzling into his cheek.

“Do you want to come to bed with me?”

Stone’s pulse stutters to a gallop.

“Yes,” he sighs, not a moment's thought.

Her smile widens.

“Just so we’re clear, this is an exclusive offer.” She gives him a playful pinch in the side. “I’m not lying back and spreading my legs for a whole batch of your brothers as well, just you.”

She squeaks as Stone pulls her more firmly against his chest, presses his lips to her ear. 

“Good.”

-

Stone wakes with his cheek to Voyanna’s chest, her heartbeat steady in his ear.

She’s awake, her fingertips tracing featherlight patterns on his scalp, breathing slow and steady as it ghosts over his skin.

Nuzzling into her breast, Stone sighs, letting her warmth soak through his body as he presses closer.

“Are all of you cuddlers?” She asks, lightly scraping the stubbly growth on his head with her nails.

Stone keeps his eyes closed, shrugs. 

“You cuddled up on me that night on the couch,” she tells him, her fingers trailing down his neck. Stone can hear the tease forming in her voice when she adds, “Went right for my tits. Typical man.”

Chuckling, Stone cracks open an eye, peaks up at her. 

“Can you blame me?” He kisses between them before resting his cheek back on them, grinning up at her. “They are perfect.”

She snorts. “I suppose I have to forgive you, don’t I? When you’re being so sweet.” Her nose wrinkles. “A bit perverted, but sweet.”

Stone settles firmly against her, closes his eyes as she hums, lets the vibration lull him to the edge of sleep.

Cuddling, his sleep fogged mind thinks, prickling with a memory. 

His eyes open as he finds the thread of thought. Ayddya had mentioned it, he finally remembers. 

“What do we tell the girls?” He asks, propping himself up on his elbow. 

They’ll be okay with it, he’s certain, but how do they explain the shift in their dynamic? How much do they tell them?

His childhood and experiences hadn’t prepared him for determining what is and isn’t appropriate to divulge upon a youngling. He isn’t even sure how much they know about sexual relations. Some, he’s sure. It would be hard to avoid all knowledge, given their love of soap operas and the fact that there are prostitutes all along the street in front of the bakery. 

Voyanna shrugs. “That you’ll definitely be coming ‘round. That’s all they’ll care about.”

He chews the inside of his cheek. “What about...other stuff?”

Her lips quirk up. “Are you asking if we should tell them you’re going to plow me nightly?”

Stone flushes as she snorts. 

“They’re younglings, Stone. They’ll be so pleased with your being around they won’t wonder what we get at.”

Nodding, he sighs. “I just-I don’t want to upset them-say the wrong thing.”

Her smile softens as she traces a finger over one of his eyebrows. 

“You really are a darling man.”

Pulling him closer, she kisses the top of his head, sighs. 

“Thank you.”

Angling his face up, he frowns. “For what?”

She makes a face. “For being decent. For giving a damn about me and the girls. For caring about them even after you’ve got me so pounced I can’t see straight.” 

“Well, I love them,” he points out, wondering how something so obvious slipped past her. He adores them, and while his ability to communicate his attraction to Voyanna may have been dreadful, he’s certain he’d been transparent about his love for the girls. 

“I know,” she says, so softly he almost misses it. “But you don’t have to. It’s a rare thing.”

Kissing him again, she wraps her arms more snuggly around him, gently strokes his back. 

“Speaking of the little womprats, get some sleep. You’ll need your rest to deal with them tomorrow.” She snorts. “They’ll be beside themselves you’ll be home all hours, they may both combust.”

Stone smiles. Home. He’ll be home. 

It’s such a wonderful and alien word.

Nestling closer, Stone rests his ear on her chest and closes his eyes.

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “I’ll be home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: And it’s done! May add a bonus chapter someday, probably from Voyanna or Thorn’s pov, but for now, this is complete. Hopefully it was a fun little journey and a satisfying ending.


End file.
